by Peter Newman
‘How did you lose that?’ he asked. He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity that drove the question or an unconscious desire to stir up some long-buried pain.
‘The Red Brothers took it from me when I was very small.’ He looked up, his eyes unusually hard. ‘They’re all dead now.’
‘And that burn?’
‘A bad bargain.’ He was still staring. ‘Why are you hiding your face?’
Satyendra turned his head away. ‘None of your business.’
‘If it’s to protect you from cuts, you need to cover your ears more, and your fingers. The Gatherers wear thicker boots than yours and they have big gloves. It makes them clumsy though.’
‘I know,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve been planning to come here for years. You think I didn’t try and learn about it first?’
‘You’ve never been here before!’
His incredulity annoyed Satyendra for reasons he couldn’t articulate. It was as if he was at fault somehow. ‘I was Lord Rochant’s last remaining Honoured Vessel. They kept me in the castle for safety.’
‘So … you don’t know anything.’
‘I do!’ he protested. ‘I told you, I learned all I could.’
‘People told you things?’
‘Yes. Story-singers, hunters, travelling merchants. I spoke to everyone I could.’
Sa-at frowned. ‘You heard things?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you don’t know anything.’
A flash of anger went through him. How dare he speak to me like that! There was an impulse to rip his hands free of Sa-at and storm off. Another one to give him a good kick as he did so, but it soon faded.
I hate him for it, but he’s right. This is all new to me. I need him. At least until my injuries have healed. Yes, I must keep him close until I can survive on my own.
He let his head hang down in an act of contrition. ‘It’s true. I don’t know the Wild. Will you help me understand?’
Sa-at didn’t immediately reply. He continued binding Satyendra’s wrists. When he was finished, he sat back and frowned. ‘I can help you.’
He sensed there was a catch. ‘But?’
‘I want to ask you something.’
Satyendra hid his irritation. ‘Of course. Whatever you want.’
‘You swore on your blood and bones that you would answer my questions truthfully.’
‘Yes, yes, I know.’
Sa-at nodded very seriously. ‘And now the trees do too.’
There was no change in the trees, nothing to indicate they’d heard or even cared what was being said. Still, Satyendra couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Whatever this is, he believes it’s true.
He gestured for Sa-at to continue.
‘Do you know what you are?’
A number of responses came to mind, few of them pleasant. ‘No.’
‘You’re a demon.’
‘… What kind of demon am I?’
Sa-at shrugged. ‘I don’t know but I have friends who will. I can ask them for you but it will cost.’
‘Cost what?’
‘That’s up to them.’
‘And what will your help cost me?’
‘That depends. Are you my friend?’
Just saying no seemed too blunt but he could at least soften the truth. ‘I don’t know you.’
‘Do you want to be my friend?’
‘It’s too early to say.’
‘Then, I want you to save my life.’
He made an exaggerated show of looking around. ‘You’re not in any danger.’
‘Not now. But the Wild is full of dangers.’ He looked directly at Satyendra again. ‘I know you’re strong. For saving your life now, you owe me until you’ve saved mine. That’s my offer.’
‘I already saved your life when we landed.’
Sa-at replied immediately. ‘That was part of the old deal.’
‘Fine. I swear that if you save my life now and help me survive in the Wild, I will save yours.’ He saw Sa-at’s expectant look and added, ‘I swear it on my blood and bones.’
Perhaps it was coincidence, but as he finished a breeze stirred the leaves at his feet, and it seemed to him that his words were carried with them, passed from tree to tree.
‘Good,’ said Sa-at. They gathered their things and set off into the woods trying to put the castle as far away as possible. ‘As part of our deal I’m going to find us something to eat.’
It was only when Sa-at mentioned food that Satyendra realized he wasn’t hungry. Not even a little bit. He tried to think of the last time he’d eaten a meal. It was at least a complete rotation of the suns ago.
He took another deep breath. The air tasted different down here. It had a taste of its own. A musky, nuanced quality. Much more interesting than what he was used to. The air above was just cold and sharp. Empty. There is life down here, and I am part of that life.
Despite the strangeness and the fear, a part of him had relaxed. It had already realized what was only just dawning in his conscious mind: He had come home.
The Godroad stretched ahead, its soft light comforting. If Pari stayed on course for long enough, it would take her all the way back into her own domain. Already, the trees had begun to change, spreading out a little, becoming less oppressive. It was still the Wild of course, but it was the Wild of House Tanzanite. An altogether more palatable thing in her opinion.
On her left she could see a stone road that joined the Godroad. It was marked out by crystal beacons. Though these lacked the power to destroy, their glow was enough to dissuade any minor demon from venturing along it. There were six other stone roads like this one, one for each of the Crystal Dynasties, and they all led to the same place: The House of Seven Doors.
Pari ordered the carriage to turn, and she felt the clunk as the crystal-tipped wheels left the buoying energies of the Godroad behind. She also heard the grunts of the Dogkin, who would now have to work much harder to move them.
Arkav looked out of the window and sighed.
‘Something wrong?’ she asked.
‘I was just trying to remember the last time I was here. I’m struggling.’
‘I’m not surprised, my dear. Why don’t we agree that it’s been too long and leave it at that.’
‘All right.’
‘No need to be gloomy about it. You’ll be a novelty. Just remember to say lovely things about me in your report.’
That got her a reluctant chuckle. ‘Same goes for you.’
Since Arkav was still looking out of the window, Pari decided to do the same. The view she got was reassuringly familiar. Barely touched by the years or the elements, the House of Seven Doors was a large heptagonal building constructed of black and white marble. It had a pointed roof, and though it was impressive on the outside, the inside was even more so: Whoever constructed it had excavated as deep into the earth as they had built upwards. As a result, only half of its grandeur could be appreciated on the approach.
Very little grew in the few miles around the building, mysterious forces holding back the Wild to create a sanctuary of sorts. Much of the time, the House of Seven Doors was unoccupied, save by the Bringers themselves, and they had little appeal to the outside world.
The second and fourth roads came in gently on her left and right, their beacons a gentle flicker in her peripheral vision. At the end of the road was a marble door, at least a foot thick, that only moved by some secret artifice of the Bringers. There was talk among the Deathless that if the door did not open, it meant you would not live to see another lifecycle. There was also talk that if you took the wrong road, something dire would happen. And, while Pari was often tempted to try the Sapphire road to see for herself, even she had never quite found the courage to experiment.
As ever, the heavy marble slid soundlessly aside to admit them, and, as ever, Arkav and Pari breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The carriage passed through and came to a halt. Being careful not to catch her wings, she stepped out of the carriage and into the greeting ch
amber, which was a large triangular space. There was a door at the narrow end of the wedge for the Deathless and a few chosen attendants to proceed. The fat end of the wedge was for carriages, Dogkin, and the majority of the entourage.
Theirs was not the only carriage here. She recognized High Lord Priyamvada Tanzanite’s banner alongside an impressive number of staff. She quickly identified the Gardener-smiths and was about to approach them when Arkav set off at a brisk pace towards the heart of the building.
‘Brother dear, what are you doing?’
‘Reporting in,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ She tapped at her chest plate for emphasis, making the crystal sing. Tradition dictated that they should doff their armour and cleanse themselves before proceeding, to be in the right mindset for harmonious discussion. Being clean and fragrant in social situations was one tradition that Pari fully supported.
‘We don’t have time for that. Sagan has fallen and the Corpseman is on the move, we have to …’
She lost the last part of his sentence as he stepped out of sight. With a shrug, she bounded after him, leaving both her staff and Priyamvada’s to gawp in their wake.
As she moved into the next chamber the floor sloped gently down below the level of the earth. This was where visiting Deathless would prepare themselves. A luxurious basin had been carved out of the marble, allowing one to bathe. Alcoves lined with shelves flanked it, containing perfumes and ointments. One had been disturbed by the speed of Arkav’s passing. She arrived too late to catch it, and winced as it shattered on the floor, scattering shards of coloured glass, and the scent of yellow berries.
A bad omen if ever I saw one.
They came to the corridor that led to the main chamber. It seemed longer to her than usual, and Arkav had extended his lead. As she hurried to keep up, she worried for her impetuous brother, and, belatedly, for herself.
Another step and she was through. The path continued to slope down, leading to a platform where one could address the assembled. Next to it was a curved table and long bench. She had spent many hours sitting at this bench, and had seen to it that the Tanzanite one had more cushions.
The acoustics of the chamber were excellent, so she heard the gasps of indignation with terrifying clarity. Putting on her best smile, she joined her brother and bowed, prompting him to do the same.
Behind each of the seated figures, great banners were hung to denote the presence of Houses Tanzanite, Spinel, Jet, Peridot, and Opal. Five of the seven High Lords coming together to deal with the rising threats to their world.
Unfortunately, in this moment, they were coming together to deal with her and Arkav. There was a flurry of words and outrage at the sudden intrusion, the presence of two armoured Deathless, and the lack of cleanliness. And then High Lord Priyamvada stood up. She was amongst the oldest of all the Deathless, and favoured large vessels. Her current body was broad, the gown she wore hanging down like the front of a fortress. Even out of armour, she made Pari feel smaller somehow. ‘I will deal with this,’ she stated before pointing an unfriendly finger in Pari’s direction. ‘Explain.’
‘We come from the Sapphire lands. As you requested, we went there to escort their High Lord, Yadavendra, to the House of Seven Doors for judgement. However, he refused the summons and became rather violent, breaking tradition and trying to send us both onto our next lifecycle.
‘With help from loyal members of House Sapphire, we were able to overcome Yadavendra, and, when he saw that his cause was lost, he took his own life.’ She paused to let them take that in. ‘The Sapphire then chose Lord Vasin as his succesor, who has taken on the name High Lord Vasinidra.’
‘The significance of that name is not lost on me,’ Priyamvada replied. It was clear this was not a good thing.
‘Well, you see, Nidra Un-Sapphire was falsely accused of treachery by Yadavendra. The new Sapphire High Lord is honouring his mother and clearing her name by taking it as his own.’
‘Be that as it may, it does not explain the manner of your arrival, nor the absence of the Sapphire High Lord. He should be explaining this to us in person.’ She looked about the chamber. ‘Your mission was to bring him here and yet I see only you and Lord Arkav.’
At this, her brother bristled. ‘There’s no time for this! The Sapphire High Lord isn’t here because he’s hunting the Scuttling Corpseman. We’re here because the threat did not die with Yadavendra. There is another traitor: Lord Rochant Sapphire. He has betrayed us all to the Wild.’
Hearing the words out loud, in this place, made them all the more real to Pari. It still hurt that Rochant had fallen so far and she hadn’t realized. Still hurt that someone she loved could be so corrupt.
In as level a voice as she could muster, Pari explained. ‘I believe that Lord Rochant traded with the Scuttling Corpseman to trick his way into joining our ranks. In return, he gave it Sorn. That’s why no Deathless responded when they made tribute. The Corpseman came and took the people away. But it didn’t kill them. It … changed them, somehow. Twisted their bodies more into line with its own. It has an army now, made of Sapphire road-born. And while the Sapphire have been fighting elsewhere, that army has fallen on Sagan. We’ve just come from there. Like Sorn, it was defenceless. Like Sorn, Sagan’s people have been stolen away, no doubt to allow the Corpseman to enlarge its army further.’
‘To what end?’ asked Priyamvada.
To that, Pari had no answer.
Arkav spoke into the silence. ‘House Ruby teeters on the edge of extinction and the Corpseman grows ever stronger. As we speak, people are dying and new enemies are born from their suffering. The Godroad failed to protect Sagan. We—’ he hammered his gauntlet into his chest, making a resounding clang ‘—have failed Sagan. The Wild is spreading, from Sapphire and Ruby settlements to the rest of our lands, and we come to you for guidance. There is no more time. We have squandered too many years. This is the time to act and so I ask you: What should we do?’
There was a pause and then, to Pari’s great surprise, Priyamvada smiled. ‘It brings me great pleasure to hear you so restored, Lord Arkav. Consider me satisfied.’ She gave Pari a meaningful look.
Thank the suns! She sees Arkav is himself again so she will sanction Arkav’s rebirth. And that means she will sanction mine as well.
‘Now,’ Priyamvada continued, turning to her peers, ‘let us discuss a stratagem. Lord Arkav, Lady Pari, stay with us. We would have your counsel.’
They both bowed, and as the High Lords began to deliberate, she glanced at Arkav, and the two of them shared a brief smile. Now there would be concerted action across the houses. Together, they would find a way to stop the Corpseman and undo the whole horrible mess that Rochant had created. She was just starting to wonder how best to bring up the issue of the Bringers of Endless Order, when the room shook to the sound of thunder above, of thick marble groaning, cracking, and shattering like glass.
Vasinidra did not sleep, nor did he dream, but his eyes were closed, and his mind wandered. Memories of past lifecycles came and went, disjointed ghosts and poignant moments were all jumbled together: Yadavendra, Umed, and Nidra all laughing at some shared joke, and laughing even harder when he asked them to share it … Gada teaching him the rules of the hunt … Fumbling the steps of his first dance … Singing old songs and hearing his castle sing back … The thrill of catching a demon …
Always before, he had played the role of the youngest Sapphire Deathless, even when Rochant had joined them. In the end, age didn’t really matter, it was all about perception. People liked to put you in a box and keep you there. But gradually, that box had got too small for him, had stifled him. He’d become more reckless in response but that too had been in keeping with an immature soul.
Another memory surfaced, this time of his mother’s voice during her exile in the Wild, dissatisfied, critical. She wants to keep me in my old role. She wants to keep me down.
‘High Lord,’ said a voice. It
sounded far away.
I cannot allow that. I must make her see that I have changed.
‘High Lord.’
The others have accepted it. Even Gada.
‘High Lord!’
A hand gently shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Gada staring back at him. Gradually, he took in their surroundings. They were standing on the Godroad. All three suns had made their way into the sky. It was morning.
How long have I been standing here?
He blinked. His body did not feel tired but neither did it feel refreshed, and his mind still felt fuzzy, and mired in the past. ‘Lord Gada? Is something wrong?’
His brother took a little too long to reply. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, but this is no place to linger. Our hunters need to eat and rest properly.’ He didn’t add that Vasinidra needed this even more but it was in his eyes.
Vasinidra nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
They set off, bounding along the Godroad at a good but measured pace. If he were alone, he could take to the air and arrive in half the time, but he didn’t. For one thing, it would embarrass Gada, and for another, he was High Lord now. Young, impetuous Deathless might have the liberty of zooming off on their own but not him. Not any more.
Up ahead they could see Lord Rochant’s castle, glinting in the sky. Gada was on one side of him, Mia on the other. His brother kept giving concerned glances, which was both touching and irritating at the same time.
Mia however, was looking up and pointing. ‘Hunters!’
She was right. He could just make out a stream of winged shapes, blue wings stark against grey stone. At their head was a Deathless. He frowned. ‘It can’t be.’
‘We’ve enjoyed a long peace at home, High Lord,’ replied Mia, ‘but the Wild always comes back. Did you suspect?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you kept Lord Rochant behind to lead a hunt?’
He didn’t answer. As far as he knew, the armour being grown for Satyendra wasn’t finished yet. The rest of the house is elsewhere. Mother can’t be reborn, and even if she was, she has no Gardener-smiths of her own. It will be years before she has wings again.
