Many Are the Dead

by Anthony Ryan

  The shaman broke off and lowered her gaze, sorrow replacing scorn as she spoke on. “She was kind, like my blood-mother in some ways, although she never beat me. And so in time my biting, screeching and smashing of crockery diminished. Their babble became words, their clothes not so uncomfortable, and I began to see meaning in the markings they scratched on parchment. For twelve years she raised me, taught me and called me daughter, though never when there were other ears to hear. They wouldn’t understand, she said. I was hidden whenever visitors came calling and the master’s servants promised a death by flogging if they ever spoke of my presence in his home. Then…” She ran her fingers over her forearm. “Then one day he brought home a new hunting dog. It bit me.”

  She fell silent, her features bunched with unwanted memory.

  “You killed it,” Sollis said. “With your gift.”

  “Don’t you mean the Dark, brother?” Her eyes blazed at him. “That’s the word they spoke when they all drew away from me, terror and disgust on every face. I believe the master would have killed me then and there if she hadn’t stopped him, dragged me back to the stronghold and locked me away. In the dead of night she came for me, took me to the courtyard where a horse waited. ‘There is no place for you here,’ said the woman who called me daughter. ‘They will kill you for the Dark that infects you. You must go home.’”

  “She was afraid,” Sollis said. “The ability to kill with a look will stir fear in the kindest heart.”

  “Kill with a look.” Verkehla let out an exasperated sigh, turning her gaze to the top of the battlement. “Is that what you think? See this?” She pointed to a small patch of moisture on the stone, a thimble’s worth of water gleaming in the torchlight. Sollis watched as her brow creased in concentration and couldn’t contain a start as the water began to alter in shape, forming a long teardrop that separated into two identical beads that blinked at him before disappearing in a cloud of vapour.

  “Did you know,” Verkehla asked, “that everything alive is made mostly of water? The trees, the plants, the beasts of earth and sky, you and me. We are all merely sacks of water, and it appears the Gods puts the power to command it in my hands.”

  She straightened, letting out a sigh rich in regret and resignation. “And so I went home. My years of comfort had made me clumsy, easily tracked once I reached the mountains. I managed to kill one of the warriors who found me before another laid me low with a club. They bound me tight and took me to the Mahlessa, as she commands be done with all those who bear a gift from the Gods. She was so old then, far older than she is now. Her body bent and twisted, but her eyes were bright with knowledge and insight. She saw all of me, all of what had been done to twist me into something that was no longer Lonak. ‘You cannot be mine,’ she said. ‘The Merim Her have despoiled you.’ And I wept. For the mother who had sent me away and the Mahlessa who now saw my worthlessness. I wept long and bitter tears until she slapped me. ‘Do not whimper like them!’ she said. ‘Corrupted as you are, know your Mahlessa still has a use for you. The Gods would not have sent you otherwise.’”

  Verkehla cast her gaze to the shrouded landscape. “And so it comes to pass. After years at the Mountain, years spent gathering this scum into the Varnish Dervakhim, years pondering the mystery of the Mahlessa’s vision. Finally, I arrive here. The moment I was made for.”

  “Destiny is a lie,” Sollis said. “Our lives are what we make of them.”

  “And yet here we are, brother. Just as she foretold.”

  Her gaze suddenly grew sharp, eyes narrowed as she peered into the gloom with predatory intensity. “It’s here,” she hissed. “It seems we are about to put prophecy to the test.”

  9

  Sollis had time to bark out a command to light the fascines before the first beasts appeared. Four of the monstrous cats came streaking out of the gloom to throw themselves against the walls before a single arrow could be loosed. Sharp claws found easy purchase on the stone as they hauled themselves up with dismaying speed. Sollis leapt atop the battlement, drawing and lowering his bow in the same fluid movement, centring the arrowhead on the snarling maw of the cat directly below, its jaws widening in anticipation of the kill. Sollis sent his arrow into its mouth, the poison coated steel-head sinking deep. The effect was much more rapid than he expected. The cat’s convulsions began almost immediately, losing its grip on the wall as it tumbled to the ground, thrashed briefly then lay still.

  “It works,” he heard Verkehla say with a note of surprised approval as he notched a second arrow. Pivoting to the left he sent his next shaft into the flank of another cat as it hauled itself to the top of the wall. The poison took fractionally longer to take hold this time, but the result was identical. Glancing around he saw the other two cats lying dead in front of the gate. The Banished Blades had evidently been over enthusiastic in their response for each cat had been feathered by at least a half-dozen shafts.

  “Save your arrows!” Sollis called out in Lonak, repeating an order he had given several times throughout their preparations. “One for each beast is enough!”

  He ordered the fascines cast over the wall. They arced out and down, bouncing along the ground until coming to rest some twenty paces out. The mingled firelight painted the landscape in shifting shades of red and gold which made the appearance of the onrushing beast horde yet more hideous. More cats came first, snow-daggers and lynxes loping up the slope in a dense mass, behind them came the pale, wraith-like wolves with the mass of apes visible to the rear.

  Sollis notched again and drew a bead on the snow-dagger at the front of the pack, but before he could loose, one of Smentil’s arrows arced down from the tower to take it in the haunch. Sollis altered his aim and brought down a lynx a few yards to the left. He loosed off four more arrows in quick succession, notching and releasing with a speed and automatic precision that bespoke endless hours of practice. On either side of him the Lonak worked their bows with similar speed but less accuracy, Sollis seeing several shafts missing their mark as the horde drew ever closer. Even so, with such a wealth of targets they were less inclined to waste their arrows. Once the beasts covered the distance to the Reach it was impossible to miss and soon the ground beneath the wall became littered with the twitching corpses of cats and wolves. But many still lived, and more kept charging out of the darkness beyond the blazing fascines.

  Seeing a number of wolves leap up to latch onto the wall, Sollis sank an arrow into the mass of animals below before setting aside his bow and drawing his sword. He sprinted to intercept the first wolf, the poison coated blade lancing out to skewer the beast’s foreleg as it crested the battlement. It let out a strange guttural sigh as the toxin flooded its veins, Sollis seeing the truth in its name in the dark grey mist that crept into the animal’s eyes at the instant of death. A pained shout drew his gaze to the right where a Lonak warrior reeled back from the wall, a trio of deep cuts on his arm. The ape that had wounded him leapt over the battlement in pursuit, claws outstretched as it sought to finish its victim, then fell dead as another Lonak sank her spear into its chest.

  A quick scan of the wall revealed no more enemies for the moment, though the rising tumult of alarm from the battlement atop the gate indicated their troubles were far from over. “The bears,” Verkehla said as he moved to join her, her eyes grim. Switching his gaze to the slope Sollis saw the bulk of the horde had drawn back to the fringes of the light cast by the fascines, the intervening ground blanketed in corpses. For a few seconds a curious silence settled over the scene, soon broken by the loud huffing of several large animals at the run.

  Eight black bears emerged from the darkness in a tight knot, the air misted by their breath as they loped forward, a dense mass of flesh aimed straight at the gate. Sollis quickly retrieved his bow and sent an arrow into the shoulder of the leading bear. Unlike the other beasts it kept on, its loping gait slowed but not halted by the poison raging through its body. Sollis swallowed a curse and loosed again, aiming for the join between the b
east’s neck and torso, reasoning it to be the most likely spot for the tainted arrowhead to find a vein. The bear stumbled, back arched in pain as it let out a long final breath before collapsing to a halt.

  At Verkehla’s command the Banished Blades let fly with a hail of arrows, claiming another three bears. The remaining four kept on, closing the final few yards to the newly crafted barrier and throwing themselves against it with a collective roar of rage. Sollis moved back to glance down into the courtyard, seeing Fehl-ahkim and his three companions pressing their weight against the barrier as it shuddered under the impact. It was clear from the despairing expression on the builder’s face that it wouldn’t hold for long.

  Sollis notched another arrow, one of only four remaining, and leapt up onto the battlement once more. He leaned out to draw a bead on the bears, finding they had all reared up onto their hind legs, meaning their bulk was mostly concealed by the lip of the gate’s arch. He contented himself by sinking his arrow into an exposed paw then turned back, calling out to the nearest Lonak warrior, “I need a rope!”

  “It’s all right, brother,” Verkehla said, hauling herself up to stand at his side. He stared in bafflement at the hand she held out to him. “Hold me,” she said, reaching out to catch his hand in a firm grip. “I need to see them.”

  With that she placed her feet on the edge of the battlement and leaned out at a low angle, Sollis taking a firm hold with both hands as she focused her gaze on the bears. They had reared back a little to lunge at the barrier once more, but the assault never came. Sollis heard a low, keening groan escape the throat of one, then all, forming a kind of ghastly chorus of pain and confusion that soon choked off into a wet gargle. Glancing down he saw one stumble away from the gate to collapse a few feet away. It seemed to shrivel as it fell, the surrounding earth darkening with the fluids that leaked from every orifice. The others soon joined it in death, each one slumping down to cough out torrents of thick, dark gore until they were rendered into just a large pile of empty fur stretched over denuded bone.

  Verkehla sagged and went limp, her feet slipping from the edge of the battlement. Sollis quickly hauled her back onto the parapet, drawing up short at the sight of her face. From her eyes down it had transformed into a red mask, blood flowing freely from her nose, eyes and mouth. “It’s done,” Sollis told her, placing a soothing hand on her forehead and finding it shockingly cold. “They’re gone.”

  Verkehla’s eyes fluttered and a faint smile played over her lips as the blood flow slowed to a trickle then stopped. “Told you…” she murmured, causing a red bubble to swell and burst on her lips. “All… just water…”

  * * *

  “Will she live?”

  Elera seemed reluctant to provide an immediate answer, spending several seconds pressing her fingers to Verkehla’s wrist before frowning in consternation and crouching to put an ear to her chest. “Her heart still beats,” she said. “But barely.” She straightened, bafflement on her face as she surveyed the unconscious woman. “This I have never seen before, brother. In truth, I don’t know if there’s any treatment I can offer.”

  “There must be something,” Sollis insisted. “Some kind of medicine.”

  “I have stimulants that can rouse someone from a coma, if that’s what this is. But she’s lost so much blood, it’s more likely to strain her heart yet further. I won’t risk it.”

  Sollis stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Without her… ability, this place won’t survive another attack.”

  “Then I suggest you find a way. I am a healer, I leave the killing to you.”

  Sollis drew back at the harshness of her tone, seeing the determined anger in her glare. “Forgive me, sister,” he said.

  Elera’s ire faded into a scowl and she inclined her head in acknowledgement before turning back to Verkehla. “I suspect this state is due to her losing so much blood,” she said, taking a cloth from a bowl of water and using it to wipe the drying blood from the woman’s face. “It will take time for her body to make good the loss. I’ll do my best to get water into her, it may help the process.”

  “And the matter we discussed earlier?”

  She gave him a cautious glance and shook her head. “No sign of it, though I’ve been busy stitching wounds these past hours.”

  Sollis looked around at the dozen wounded Lonak in the keep, most nursing various gashes to the face and limbs. After the failed assault on the gate their enemy had tried another tactic, sending a pack of apes against the south-facing wall whilst a combined force of wolves and cats circled round to attack from the west. Fortunately, Smentil had been quick to spot the manoeuvre and Sollis had time to shift sufficient forces to contain it. Even so, the apes had managed to gain the parapet for a time, killing four Banished Blades before Oskin led a counter charge. Red Ears had been in the thick of the fighting, as evidenced by the red stain that covered her snout as she huddled beside a nearby fire. Oskin sat idly stroking her fur as he stared into the flames.

  “Quite the old set-to, eh, brother?” he said with a smile as Sollis approached. “Can’t remember one quite like it since the Outlaws Revolt, and that was over a decade ago. ‘Course we were fighting men then. Beggared, soulless wretches the lot of them, but still men.”

  “You should get some rest, brother,” Sollis said, sinking to his haunches and extending his hands to the fire. Now the frenzy of battle had faded the mountain chill had returned with a vengeance. He had noticed before how sensations seemed to heighten in the aftermath of combat, as if the body was reminding itself it was still alive.

  “Reckon I’ll get all the rest I need soon enough,” Oskin replied with the faintest of chuckles.

  Sollis saw it then, the paleness of his skin against the dark mask of his beard, the damp brightness to his eyes. Sollis’s gaze tracked lower, seeing how his brother held his left arm tight against his chest. Reaching out he pulled Oskin’s cloak aside to reveal the ragged tear in his jerkin and the bloody bandage beneath.

  “I’ll get our sister,” he said, starting to rise.

  “Leave her be,” Oskin said. The soft but firm insistence in his tone made Sollis pause. He met Oskin’s gaze, finding a need there, a plea for understanding. “I know a mortal wound when I see one,” Oskin continued. “Big bastard of an ape caught me a good one. Took his head off for it right enough, but not before he left one of his claws inside. Too deep to be dug out. Can feel it moving about.” Oskin winced, features tensing in pain. Sollis reached forward, grasping his brother’s shoulder to stop him slumping into the flames. Red Ears let out a high pitched whine and nuzzled closer to her master, tail moving with frantic energy.

  “Good pup,” Oskin said, running a trembling hand over the hound’s head. “Best I ever reared. You’ll take care of her, won’t you, brother?”

  “I will,” Sollis said. Feeling Oskin sag further he reached out to grasp both his shoulders, gently easing him onto his back.

  “Dying amongst the Lonak,” Oskin murmured with a bitter sigh. “My reward for a lifetime in the Order. Perhaps it’s punishment for hating them so. Hate is not of the Faith after a-”

  He jerked in Sollis’s grip, letting out a pained shout that echoed through the keep, drawing Elera to his side. “You old fool,” she said, seeing his bandage. It was soaked through with blood now, torrents of it streaming down his side. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Leave it,” Sollis said as she crouched lower to inspect the wound. “Please, sister.”

  She drew back, briefly meeting his gaze before looking away. “I have something that will ease his pain,” she said, rising and moving to one of her saddlebags.

  “Sollis,” Oskin whispered, beckoning him closer. “The sign… the mark you spoke of…” His voice diminished to a croak as Sollis leaned down to put his ear to his lips. “The stables… third stall from the gate…” He fell silent, his breath playing over Sollis’s cheek. Once, twice, then no more.

  “Redflower with powdered green hops,” Elera s
aid, returning with a bottle in hand. “I’ve never met the ache it couldn’t banish…” She stopped upon seeing Sollis removing the medallion of the Blind Warrior from about Oskin’s neck. As Sollis pulled Oskin’s cloak over his face Red Ears’ whines became a plaintive howl that filled the keep, drawing the Lonak closer.

  “You burn your dead, do you not?” Fehl-ahkim asked, taking in the sight of Oskin’s lifeless form.

  “We can’t spare the fuel,” Sollis said.

  “Dawn is fast approaching.” The builder jerked his head at his fellows who duly came forward to gather up Oskin’s body. “A man who fights beside you deserves respect in death. Blue Cloak or no.”

  * * *

  They piled what wood they could gather in the centre of the courtyard, a few shards from the old ruined gate and the brush wood left over from fashioning the fascines. Oskin’s corpse was set atop it after which the Lonak used their scant supplies of lamp oil to douse the pyre. A warrior had relieved Smentil from his vigil atop the tower and he made his testament whilst Sollis lit the torch.

  This man was my brother in the Faith, Smentil signed. And my friend in life. Never did he falter in either regard. He lowered his hands, turning to Sollis with an expectant nod.

  Sollis chose to speak in Lonak, feeling the assembled Banished Blades deserved the courtesy for the consideration they had shown. “This man was my brother,” he began. “And he taught me many things. He taught me how to follow a track across bare stone. How to read the song of the wind in the mountains. How to trust the nose of a well-bred hound. But he saved his best lesson for his dying breath: it is no good thing to die in regret, despairing of the hatred you nurtured in life.”