As Karro passed Esvana to confront the orator, she grabbed his hand.
“You wear the Eye of Auros on your chest,” Karro thundered at the orator, pulling free from Esvana’s grip, “but you carry none of his truth or love of justice.” Karro tore the front of the orator’s tunic. “Believe that I am Karro or not. I don’t care, but if I find you wearing the symbol of Auros again, I will gut you as a heretic. Wear the fetishes of the slave faith if that is all you hold dear but wear them openly.”
This level of entertainment had become more than the crowd wanted. Everywhere Karro turned, people faded away. In mere heartbeats, he stood alone on the side street with Esvana. Talodan waited at the edge of the main street.
While the prostitute kissed the back of his hand and whispered praises, it struck Karro what he had lost. In a Temple town in the Tuskaran kingdom, people feared his reputation. Karro the Avenger. Tuskaran people dreaded the scrutiny of the Greater Servant of Justice. Charms, fetishes and the simple chants and rituals of the slave religion were easier than living up to the standards of the True God.
He had reinforced this fear. Whether they believed he was Karro or not, just his name and the possibility of the judgement of Auros scattered them. They believed he and Auros existed, but they would rather wear feathers than live honestly and treat each other with dignity.
Esvana stroked his neck. “You are my own Knight of Auros and you made that idiot Orvo run in front of everyone. I don’t have money for you, but I’ll take care of your man’s needs for free.” She ran her hand across his chest and belly. She tugged lightly at his belt before drifting lower. Alarmed, Karro grabbed her forearm before she started to ply her trade with him in the street.
“It’s allowed for me, my own Knight. I’m a yellow-skirt and no one will expect any better from a caravan guard with me.” She took his hand as she stepped back and twirled before him.
He let go of her hand. “I did what I did because they were committing an injustice and doing it while claiming the blessing of Auros. I am Karro.”
Esvana stopped in mid-step. Her green-dyed eyebrows drew together as she studied him with suspicion.
“I can’t undo your life before today,” Karro said gently. “I won’t demand you change if it is not in you to do so. But many of our people died terrible deaths to win our freedom. We did this to throw off the Masters and so no Tuskaran woman would ever have to wear ‘Glorious’ yellow again.” He choked on bitterness.
He spun on his heel and walked toward Talodan, not looking back. At the main street, Talodan wisely kept his peace as he handed Vision’s reins to Karro. They followed the main way deeper into Tavma’s Cross.
As a Tuskaran, Karro was born into slavery to the sun-cultist Masters. As a child, it hadn’t meant much to him until one Day of Collection.
The Masters did not merely the bulk of the harvest. That year his father led Karro’s oldest sister to the Masters. The Masters’ law demanded all Tuskaran girls of thirteen summers be dressed in yellow and delivered up.
The Masters said yellow dresses showed the honor these girls would receive. Yellow was the color of Glory and the Sun. The pain in his father’s eyes told a different story. It would be three more years before Karro-the-child understood what it meant for these Tuskaran maidens to serve in the barracks of the Masters.
Now women wore yellow to sell their bodies.
Karro led an indirect path to the Temple. This allowed Talodan more time to see the crafts quarter and gave Karro time to regain composure. They rounded a corner from the street of silversmiths and faced the main gate of the Temple of Light.
The Temple’s whitewashed granite walls were low enough that the late morning sun’s reflection from the main hall’s silvered dome dazzled them. The bronze-faced gates stood open and Karro led the way across the paved plaza to them.
He dismounted before the gates and Talodan followed suit. No guard stood post, but they received a challenge of a sort as they passed through the gate.
“Karro of Kulkas, if my eyes still tell me true.”
Karro squinted into a shadowed room flanking the gate. He didn’t need to see details to recognize Balanar’s hail. “If your eyes, at least, can tell the truth, then Auros has worked a miracle.” He dropped Vision’s reins and threw his arms wide to embrace the Macmar who stepped out. Balanar stood nearly a head taller than Karro himself but seemed shorter because of his heavily muscled frame. He wore a loose linen shirt and plaid pants of old Macmar styling. Around his neck he wore a smooth bronze torc.
Karro turned toward Talodan. “This is Balanar, long in service of Auros.” Talodan’s eyes widened in a way to make Karro chuckle. “I see you recognize his name, Talodan. Many of the tales you’ve heard are true, at least the ones he didn’t start.”
Balanar gripped Talodan’s wrist in the Macmar fashion of equals. “If you’ve chosen to serve Auros with Karro, I’ll credit you to be no weakling. Not bright, but no coward. Between his haste to use the blade and his insistence on truth where it isn’t needed, you’ll see plenty of gore and too little glory.” He looked closely at the tracker and continued, “I’ll wager you’re not here for glory.” Balanar’s easy manner faded as he turned to Karro. “Auros’s service is not for the man seeking vengeance.”
Karro frowned. “Auros doesn’t require purity in his servants. You know that better than most. Talodan has a lot of anger to help him in our task. It’s my duty to keep it from destroying him.” Before Talodan could speak Karro continued, “Besides, Talodan hasn’t pledged himself to Auros’s service. Our goals merely align for the moment.”
Two boys trotted over to Karro and bowed. Both wore simple work tunics and pants and the shaved heads of initiates to the Temple. One had a horse symbol stitched on his pale blue tunic―an initiate studying animal care to serve either Braxos as a farrier or Sullos as a veterinarian. The other wore the unbleached tunic of an initiate of Auros and would care for their weapons and gear. When their mounts were led away, Karro returned to Balanar.
“Talodan isn’t here to join the Temple,” Karro said. “We came for information and other weapons. There were three attacks on Kulkas land. At least two involved Hykori necromancy and Duke Voskov led the third. If those two have banded together, I’ll need more than my sword.”
Balanar stroked his long mustaches. “Hykori death magic is foul stuff. The earliest Macmar shamans were corrupted just by opposing it. The Students of Carranos may have some old Macmar tales that may help you. You should see the Master of the Temple first though.”
Like a cloud passing away from the face of the sun, Balanar’s expression brightened. “But you’ll not see him before morning; he’s with the town council tonight. That means you’ll have to help me with a wine and mead blend just in from the midlands. You owe me a night of good cheer for this news of Voskov, and I’ll see what measure of man young Talodan might be.”
Karro spent the next few hours visiting the other servants of the True God. Both the Student of Carranos and the Craftsman of Braxos who had studied with Karro were still at the Temple. Several of the men he had trained as armsmen were teaching while recovering from wounds received in their own tasks. There were no men training for the Rites of Devotion to Auros or any of the other Greater Servants.
He caught up with Talodan or Balanar at the evening meal, served in the courtyard outside the Temple’s kitchens. Karro sat beside the dazed-looking tracker. Talodan pushed at the meaty stew. Karro dipped into his own bowl as Balanar joined them.
“Karro, lad, Talodan casts shame on his Macmar blood. He’s barely kept one cup to my three and now he drops with the sun.” Balanar smiled widely, but his red face and eye-searing breath told of his own efforts.
Karro clapped Talodan’s shoulder and whispered loudly enough for Balanar to hear. “Don’t let him goad you. Balanar has had more practice at drink than you’ve had at stringing bows. Scarcely a man sits in this yard whom Balanar hasn’t put under the table, myself included.”
Karro smiled at the newcomer. “Ervistellan, glad to see you away from your scrolls.”
Balanar glanced back toward the kitchens. Talodan raised his head to stare owlishly.
“Of course, I have to leave the scrolls from time to time” The Student of Carranos spoke in precise Tuskaran with a liquid Hykori sound. “There is the gathering of knowledge. It rarely brings itself to you. I want details on these dead men you fought. Surprisingly few useful Macmar records exist regarding the conquest of the Hykori Empire. Balanar’s people tell interesting tales and refer to Hykori undead, but their traditions favor drama over detail or accuracy.”
Balanar blew loudly through his mustache. “Hykori kept records on things that should never have been known. Macmar are men of deeds. We just kept some Hykori around as thralls and clerks.” He looked smugly at the Hykori Student.
“True enough,” the Student said. “Perhaps both our peoples benefitted when the Tuskarans laid the Macmar kingdoms low. They keep good records and were strong enough to hold the Plains for a while. Even though that is really just a family squabble.”
Karro didn’t want to hear them debate. Ervistellan enjoyed trading verbal barbs. Balanar’s arguments would likely be more physical. Those serving the True God needed good hearts; sadly, perfection was not required. Or perhaps, fortunately.
Karro cleared his throat. “Balanar, just listen to my story. Ervis can note the important details while you make the story more …. exciting.”
He told them about the encounter at Southdell. The Student had many specific questions about the appearance of the undead. He was as interested in the states of the creatures finally destroyed as about the ones who escaped. He displayed a particular curiosity in the actions of the undead when they suddenly broke off their attack. The ambush that they set later didn’t concern the Student.
Early into the tale, Balanar quieted. He could be as good an audience as an entertainer when the situation arrived.
After Ervistellan asked his last question, Balanar leaned his elbows on the table and spoke quietly. “Those are the nightmen. The legends say they prefer night.”
Talodan lifted his head from the table at their mention. “Aye, mothers still shush their noisy bairns with stories of them. There are tattoos and charms said to repulse or confuse them.” He dropped his head back to the table and began to snore.
Balanar nodded in Talodan’s direction. “Few in the hill clans don’t sport some sort of protection. Most will deny it under the light of day, but none would go out at night unprotected. I keep my grandfather’s bespelled arm bracers, though I thought those stories naught but bad-saying the Hykori. If the nightmen exist, maybe the charmsmen— the men who make the tattoos and charms— aren’t pure cheats.”
Karro turned to the Student. “Are there records of how these things―these nightmen―were destroyed? We lost four good warriors and only killed two nightmen. Could the charms Balanar spoke of work against them?”
Ervistellan shook his head. “The records mention some thing. Hematite is poison to them. Severe enough injuries will stop them. What concerns me is that these creatures’ existence means someone is creating and maintaining them. The records are consistent in that the undead fall apart over time. Active undead require practicing necromancers and unwholesome diets. I believed these creatures were a thing of the past.”
Karro pondered this. “Voskov attacked Kulkas Hold the same night of the fight at Southdell. Captured henchmen swore Duke Voskov had no such sorceries.”
Ervistellan nodded. “Necromancers can’t practice other sorcery. The forces tapped to create the undead repulse even the creatures required for sorcery.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “Necromancers cooperate with worse, more powerful things. Either these necromancers have been in hiding since the fall of the Hykori Empire or there is a new entry place for the darkest Hykori deities. If necromancers have been in hiding, how many other horrors of the old empire are waiting?”
Karro shuddered. Spiritshifters, Souldrinkers, Firesnakes or even Void Bats. The evening chill sank into his bones.
Ervistellan pulled his robes tightly about himself and moved away from the table. “Karro, see me at my desk in the morning and I’ll show what I find in my records tonight. Once again, some Knight has spoiled my night.”
Karro bit his tongue as the Student crossed the courtyard to the blue door of Carranos’s tower.
Balanar snorted. “You know, he thought he cheered us with that pale joke.”
Karro reached for Balanar’s glazed jug. “All those ancient terrors left no skill for humor in the whole Hykori race. You have to credit him for trying.”
Balanar jerked his chin toward Talodan. The tracker shoveled in long-cold stew and drew the mead pitcher closer.
With a loud laugh, Balanar said, “Now this effort is more to my liking. I’ll limit you to one cup to my four, lad.”
At dawn, Karro joined the Knights and Initiates in the weapons field outside the walls of Tavma’s Cross. They greeted the sun as the living symbol of the True God and not a deity in its own right. Then came the exercises. All went through their war dances, individual series of slow but precise movements simulating combat against one or more opponents. Later they paired off and sparred with weighted wooden weapons.
Karro’s partners were usually Initiates, so he mixed exercise with instruction. Auros had chosen even the clumsiest for a reason. Karro also practiced against Balanar, and later, Talodan. Balanar won two of the four matches. By Auros’s tradition, all match numbers were even.
Before even beginning to spar with Karro, the tracker clutched his head and sore abdomen. He was easy meat.
As Talodan stepped back, Balanar called, “Hold, lads!”
The drill-master gathered the class around Karro as Balanar swept his palm toward Karro in silent invitation. “The esteemed, if unsung, Karro has matters to discuss. Learning from his experiences could save your lives.”
The dozen or so Initiates and teachers sat on the field as they surely had hundreds of times before. Most were of mixed Macmar and Tuskaran blood; the following of the True God was strongest in what remained of the Tuskaran kingdom. Few Hykori were drawn to Auros, although that race strongly served Carranos and Sullos. A lone Shushkachevan sat the group before Karro. Followers of the True God were rare among the new masters of the Plains.
“I’ve seen something out of the worst tales of the Old Empire,” Karro said. “Call them undead, nightmen, or what you will; animated corpses are moving in the hills. Most of you have seen dead men, so I won’t have to describe them to you. You will know one if you see it. These dead men walk and are cunning, vicious fighters. A Student of Carranos told me this means necromancers are alive and active. Knight or Initiate, you need no more reason to prepare yourself for battle. I have seen these things die. Like all beings of darkness, if they can harm your flesh, they can be slain by you in turn.”
Karro felt uncomfortable with so much attention. Temple soldiers drifted over to join the rapt audience. “Blows that should kill a man will hurt these creatures. They are just tools of an evil will. They don’t seem to feel pain, but they can be smashed beyond function. Don’t let their strength or appearance weaken you. Pound them hard enough and they will fall.”
He gave a brief story of the fight and later ambush at Southdell, concentrating on the kinds of blows that stopped the creatures. He then led the gathering in moves that would counter the attacks that the dead men had favored. It was nearly noon by the time he, Balanar and Talodan returned to the Temple.
Ervistellan again joined them at a table in the courtyard. This time his eyes blazed with inner energy. “I’ve found some items that you can use. When s
omething interests Carranos, the right scrolls are always at hand and my eyes never tire.” He laid out scrolls. “The only useful records were of Hykori origin.”
Karro suppressed a grin as Ervistellan shot a look at Balanar. Assured of making his point, the Student continued, “Long ago, Qu was a Hykori researcher. His studies led him to most of the bases of what sorcerers used during the waning days of the Empire as well as today. He crafted the first firesnake and made his queen immortal with the curse of the Souldrinkers. Qu kept meticulous records, based on the scraps we’ve found.”
While Karro was interested in hearing the information, he also noticed Ervistellan’s conflict between admiration for Qu’s work and repugnance for the results―like combat with a skilled, but depraved opponent.
“One of Qu’s discoveries led to the foundation of necromancy and he abhorred it. The queen’s consorts, the Demon Lords of legend, delved farther into the study of necromancy and Qu broke with the court. He rebelled against his rulers but was overcome and punished in some unspeakable manner. The chaos led to power grabs by the Demon Lords against their queen. My last sources from one of Qu’s students hint at many things but are clear on none; perhaps that particular student was a Macmar slave.”
Karro hummed. “This is interesting to a Student, I’m sure. What can you tell us about killing dead men?”
“Oh, that. I’m afraid Balanar’s people found out most of the important parts. Hematite in any quantity is deadly. Qu spent a lot of effort on symbols that would immobilize the creatures to give his insurgents a chance to hack them down. What I found in the texts of the charmsmen is close to Qu’s own patterns. They may be near enough. I have three simpler ones, if you want to try them. Do let me know if they are effective.” The Student gave Karro a tight curl of parchment with detailed circular charms drawn on it.
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