If not there, then… Kishin did not like to think of where he would go if this did not work out.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
“YOU HAVE A challenge here,” Victor said. “You’re right-handed, but your left foot is the twisted one, right?”
Rufus nodded. The rest of the party were setting up camp, but Victor had pulled him aside.
“Normally, I would teach you how to pivot on your right foot, constantly moving your left foot. Do you think you could do that?”
Rufus demonstrated an attempt at a shifting stance. The awkwardness made Victor wince. A skilled opponent would knock him off balance in seconds, opening him up to a lethal attack.
“Let’s flip that,” he suggested. “You’ll be more of a defensive fighter, but I think you’ll live longer.”
He worked with Rufus on new stances, holding his square Varioch shield forward and waiting patiently on an opening. Once it grew too dark to see, they sat in the dirt and watched the new campfire from a distance.
“Do you think we’ll have much more fighting to do?” Rufus asked.
“I hope we never have to fight again.” Even as he said it, Victor wondered if he truly believed that. “But after what happened in the last village, I think everyone needs to prepare for battle. We might have to fight more invaders from the Otherworld.”
“Swords didn’t seem much good against them.”
“No,” Victor admitted. “But if they cross over like the leader did, we can fight them.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Victor looked up at the stars starting to appear. Marshal talked a lot about the stars of the Otherworld. Victor wondered how different they could be. At any rate, they seemed to have power to heal, which is where starshine came from. Huh. Forerunner and Wolf could heal, and they came from there. He wondered if Marshal or Seri had made that connection.
“Thanks, by the way,” Rufus said.
“What for?”
“Helping me out. I’m feeling kind of useless here, what with the mages and heroes and all.”
Victor snorted. “Our curse squad is down to only four, if you don’t count Wolf. Which I don’t. We’ve got to stick together.”
Victor almost couldn’t hear the response. “I’m the only one now who actually has a curse.”
“That doesn’t matter. We’re all one mistake away from being cursed, after all.” He shifted so as to face Rufus. “Marshal didn’t even do anything for his curse. This is the point. We’re going to find a way to end all of it. No more curses.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
“I didn’t think it was possible to get rid of one curse, but we did. And I’ve seen so many other things I never would have thought possible. Did I tell you about the floating city?”
He hadn’t, so Victor spent the next few minutes telling Rufus all about Intal Eldanir. When he finished, they again shared that silence that young men often do.
“Do you think you’ll ever go there again?” Rufus asked after a while.
“The Eldanim city? Nah, I don’t have any reason to go back there. Marshal might, I suppose. There was this Eldani girl that seemed like she wouldn’t mind seeing him again, if you know what I mean.”
“He seems taken with the mage right now.”
“True.”
“So where will you go when this is all over?”
“All over?” Victor frowned. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I don’t really know. I could go back home, to Drusa’s Crossing. I had a girl there. Careen.” He paused. “I haven’t thought about her in a long time. I wonder if she ever thinks of me.”
“Topleb will go home after we reach this other place,” Rufus said. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t have much to go back to.”
“You’re welcome to stay with us as long as there’s reason to.”
With the glow from the distant firelight, Victor saw Rufus open his mouth, then close it. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t decide whether he should.
“Ho! You two!” Topleb’s shout carried across the flat land. “If you’re done slapping each other with sticks of metal, you might want to eat something!”
“Is he cooking again tonight?” Victor asked.
“I think he delights in tormenting us.”
“If you are talking now about my cooking,” Topleb called, “then you are giving me time to add a few extras to your plates!”
“We’d better move!” The two young men scrambled to their feet and hurried to join the others.
Dravid relished his role as nightly storyteller around the fire. To him, Kuktarma was home. But to this group, it was an exotic land, far away. Every story he told of his homeland sounded strange to them, especially if he exaggerated a few things. Every once in a while, however, the interruptions grew irritating.
“One day, Lord Meluhha’s fourth son decided to visit a young maiden who lived—”
“What was his name?” Rufus asked.
“I don’t know his name. He’s the fourth son.”
“You don’t know the name of your Lord’s son?”
Dravid scowled at him. “Of course I don’t. Do you?”
“Even I know that,” Topleb said. “It’s Volraag. Except he is Lord now.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Dravid argued. “He was next in line. Do you know any of his other sons?”
“Marshal,” Victor said, grinning.
“Still not the same thing!”
Rufus looked confused. “Marshal?”
“I’ll explain later,” Victor whispered.
“As I was saying, the fourth son went to visit a young maiden who lived in the walls of the city. She was an orphan child who had grown up under the care of the chief of the Lord’s guard. What the fourth son did not know, however, was that he was followed by the seventh son, the youngest—”
“You don’t know his name either, do you?”
“We’ve established this.”
“Let him tell his story,” Seri put in. “They’re always funny, even if he doesn’t know their names.”
Dravid nodded. The smile she directed his way made all of it worthwhile.
“The seventh son followed the fourth and watched as he met with the maiden. Unfortunately, the seventh son tripped over a vase, revealing his presence.”
Dravid went on, describing the conflict between the two brothers. As he talked, he noticed Marshal whisper something to Seri and point to his new sword. She nodded, whispered something back, then returned her attention to Dravid.
“…but the maiden interfered, for she was tender of heart. She begged the fourth son not to be harsh with his younger brother, who was only curious about the ways of love.
“‘Curiosity was the downfall of the tailless monkey of Lord Sakouna,’ the fourth son pointed out.”
Rufus opened his mouth to ask something, but Topleb shushed him.
“‘True,’ the maiden replied, ‘but is it not also the defining characteristic of all seven sons of the great Lord Meluhha? Surely you do not begrudge your brother your own character traits, for was it not that very curiosity that led you to my door?’
“Her earnest words, spoken with such ardor, so moved the fourth son that he completely forgot the presence of his brother and began to kiss the maiden with all the passion of a true son of the Lord Meluhha.
“The seventh son felt uncomfortable witnessing this display and moved toward the door. The fourth son and the maiden both paid him no mind, so deep were they in their embrace. And it was at this precise moment that the chief of the guard knocked on the door.”
Dravid paused for the chuckles which naturally followed. Then he went on, gesturing broadly as he described the awkward situation. As the youngest, the seventh son rarely appeared in the stories, but when he did, he always caused awkward problems for his older brothers. But often, like in this story, he managed to get them out of trouble through surprising wisdom.
As he continued to the
story’s ridiculous climax, Dravid kept an eye on his audience. Rufus still looked a little confused, though Topleb, Victor, and Seri all seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Marshal’s scars made him much harder to read. Forerunner leaned forward, completely enthralled. He never missed a story of any kind.
And then Dravid noticed Calu. He sat apart from the others, as he often did. But his face… his eyes narrowed with suspicion. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, as if he contained anger. Did the story offend him? But no… he did not watch Dravid. His eyes were fixed on Forerunner.
Seri looked over the warpsteel sword with her star-sight. “I don’t see anything special about it,” she said at last, handing it back to Marshal.
“That’s surprising. I was sure you’d see something.”
“Tell me again what makes these swords different.”
Marshal gestured with the sword, looking frustrated. “I don’t fully understand it myself. That’s part of the problem. Talinir talked about the forging process, but I didn’t know what he meant. And apparently, the magic they use in making it means the sword exists in both worlds.”
“So when you’re swinging that around right now…” Seri pointed at it. “Does that mean there’s a sword swinging around in the Otherworld by itself right now?”
“I guess? Or maybe they have to do something to make that happen. I don’t know. I watched Talinir fighting a monster in the Otherworld with one, while he was here with us in this world.” He held it up and looked at it again. “And Hanirel used it to cross into our world. It was like he cut open the sky.”
Seri nodded. “He said as much to me. But not how he did it.”
“Let’s try our power together,” Marshal said. He held out his left hand.
Seri glanced around to make sure none of the others were too close. She took Marshal’s hand. He closed his eyes, concentrating. She did her part, finding an orange beam of magic nearby and absorbing it. She let it flow through her hand to Marshal and felt his power flow back in response. Her body tensed up. His power felt so amazing, so strong.
As before, the beams of light began to encircle them, moving faster and faster. Soon, she could see nothing else. Marshal opened his eyes and grinned. She smiled back. It felt good to have someone able to share this with her.
Marshal held up the sword and focused on it. Seri watched magic flow from Marshal into the blade. Some of the beams swirling about them shifted and plunged into the sword also. A few began to writhe about the blade itself, giving it an bizarre appearance. She almost couldn’t see the metal any more. But the brightness around it continued to increase. Soon, it became difficult to keep her eyes open.
“Try it now!” she shouted, then wondered why she felt the need to raise her voice. The swirling magic wasn’t creating any sound… was it?
Marshal lifted the blade and drew it across the colored beams in front of them. To Seri’s surprise, the beams themselves came apart and split in opposite directions. But the sword cut deeper than that. As it moved across her viewpoint, it left behind a dark gash in mid-air.
“I think it’s working!” Marshal cried. He thought he needed to be loud too. Interesting.
Seri stared at the dark cut. Did it truly lead into the Otherworld? She couldn’t see much of anything through the narrow gash yet.
Marshal inserted the warpsteel sword into the gash and cut down a few inches. Then he cut back across the opposite direction. Eventually, he brought the sword back up to the starting point. Both of them stared at the results.
A horizontal opening a few inches tall floated just above their eye level. Beyond it, Seri saw the stars of the Otherworld. Though she immediately felt the overwhelming awe of their immensity and beauty, she found her reaction somewhat muted this time. Memories tempered her admiration, memories of the star-like being that strode across the world coming for her after the breaking of the Bond.
“The stars,” Marshal whispered. Seri pulled her eyes away and looked at him. Marshal’s face showed more than awe. He looked like… like… what? Like he wanted the stars, desired them. Seri admired their beauty and power, but Marshal wanted more. He took a step toward the opening, staring up into it with total abandon.
“Marshal!”
He did not react.
Seri yanked her hand away from his. The colors faded away. The hole in the sky remained for a few more moments, then it dissolved as well. Marshal lunged for it just as it disappeared. His hand closed on nothing.
He spun back to Seri. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? The stars, Seri! Didn’t you see the stars?”
“Yes, I saw them. I also saw your reaction to them.”
He looked confused now. “What other reaction can there be to that beauty?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some admiration combined with self-control?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. You looked like you would have left all of us behind if you could get to the stars.”
Marshal looked back at where the hole had been. “I would have,” he said. He dropped the sword and fell to his knees.
Seri stepped closer. “What do you mean?”
“I thought… I thought I had gotten over it, after the fight with Curasir.” He continued to stare up at the empty sky. “But I haven’t. Ever since I first saw them, I’ve… wanted nothing more than to get back to them. It may be wrong, but sometimes, it’s all that I can think about.”
Seri tried to grasp what he meant, but the concept eluded her. This behavior from Marshal differed from all she had come to know from him.
“Are you… planning to go through the high place to the Otherworld when we reach it? Is that why you’re going?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it was for Talinir. I need to rescue him. And, and the curses. But if I can see the stars again…”
“You can’t leave us! We need you!”
“And I need the stars. But what I need never matters, does it?”
“I don’t understand at all.”
“No one does.”
Seri hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. Whatever this strange desire that consumed Marshal might be, she couldn’t argue with it. Better to leave him alone. Her excitement in recovering her star-sight and finding Marshal: all of it seemed tempered now. Maybe things weren’t what she thought them to be. Maybe Marshal wasn’t who she thought he was.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED to Marshal. Victor didn’t know what, but he saw the change. Marshal was reverting to his behavior back at the battlefront: withdrawn, moody, and quiet.
He suspected Seri had something to do with it. Marshal hadn’t spoken to her in three days, at least.
Still, Victor had been busy. Training with Rufus. Learning about Ch’olan from Topleb. And his own practice. He still hadn’t decided whether to switch to using the new flail. The old one felt so comfortable, so normal in his hand. The new one might be a better weapon, but he couldn’t seem to get used to it.
The road ascended from the sparse lowlands and they entered a forest. Victor saw what Topleb had meant about the trees. They were enormous! They further they traveled, the higher the trees rose, forming a roof that blocked out much of the sun. Enough light made it through to show off more shades of green than Victor had ever imagined. He found it all both strange and beautiful. Unfortunately, the heat and insects diminished the appeal. He waved a large buzzing thing away from his face and found himself wishing for thrummers.
He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Is it always this hot here? The air is so… damp.” Was it summer already? It seemed too early.
“Ha!” Topleb laughed. “This is not hot. This is pleasant warmth. Come back later in summer to find hot!”
“If I ever come back, I think I’ll try for winter.”
The good-natured banter continued as the two of them led the party up the road north. Marshal followed
behind them, quiet as he had been the last few days. Wolf and Forerunner came next, speaking only to each other. Seri, Ixchel, Dravid and Rufus brought up the rear.
“Someone up there,” Marshal said, breaking into the conversation. He inclined his head to point with his chin.
Victor looked ahead. A cloaked and hooded man with a staff leaned against a gigantic tree trunk at the side of the road. They had seen occasional travelers along this road, but never someone all alone.
“A pilgrim, perhaps,” Topleb suggested.
“A pilgrim?”
“The high place is considered sacred by many. Some make the journey there as a spiritual adventure.”
The pilgrim, or whatever he might be, noticed their approach. He straightened and pulled back his hood. He lifted a hand in greeting as Victor and Topleb neared him.
“Ho there,” Topleb said.
“Blessings to you,” the stranger said. “Is this the road to the high place?” His skin, dark and smooth, marked him as a native. His black hair, while full, reached only to the middle of his neck.
“It is. Are you a pilgrim?”
He nodded once. “That is my current task, the job I have chosen for myself. Are you all pilgrims as well?” Something sounded vaguely familiar about his voice, but perhaps it was the accent, so similar to Topleb and Ixchel. His eyes looked them over, then darted to Marshal and his scars.
“Something like that,” Victor said. “We’re on our way there.”
The pilgrim hesitated for a moment. “At this time of year, there are dangerous animals in the region sometimes. Would you mind if I followed along with your group? For safety?”
Victor looked back to Marshal. He didn’t react. “Well, ah, we’re quite an unusual group. I don’t know if we’re the best company for, um…”
The pilgrim spread his arms, revealing clothes that looked about as average as you could find. “I seek nothing from you, save the safety of your companionship. I have my own food, and need nothing else.”
Until All Bonds Are Broken Page 34
