by James Erich
The Stronni king accepted a similar chalice from a manservant who was also missing an eye. His Majesty smiled amicably at his visitor and raised the chalice. “Let us drink, then, to the end of our conflict!”
He drank without hesitation while his queen looked on, smiling benignly.
The Iinu Shavi drank as well. At first she detected nothing. The sweet brew was strong, but she could not become intoxicated. Yet, after a moment, she felt an odd sense of weakness come over her. Had she been poisoned, after all? It should not have been possible, yet….
“No, Your Majesty,” Imen said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “You have not been poisoned.”
The beautiful, raven-haired queen of the Stronni stepped forward and approached the Iinu Shavi, her smile no longer quite so benign. “The brew is our finest. We would never spoil it with anything so mundane as poison.”
“Magic, then,” the Iinu Shavi said, looking her foe in the eye while feeling the strength draining from her limbs.
But the queen laughed gently as they drew face to face. “I know that no magic can affect the Shavi of the Taaweh. But there is one thing that can.”
The Lady watched her intently but said nothing in response.
“Come with me, Your Majesty,” Imen said, continuing past her. The Iinu Shavi glanced about the room, but no one else was moving. The king and all his retinue watched cautiously as their queen led the way to the entranceway of the hall, where massive wooden doors still hung awkwardly from their hinges.
Growing weaker by the moment, the Iinu Shavi turned to follow. When they reached the door, she was horrified to discover it no longer opened upon the mountainside. The door now looked out upon the sky. Standing on the threshold, she was able to look down upon the ground far below, and she could see that the distance was growing ever greater.
“Your power comes from the earth,” Imen said matter-of-factly, “As long as you remain near it, your strength is inexhaustible. So we’ve had to remedy the situation. I’ve had my wizards lift this hall. The higher we go, the weaker you become. You can barely stand now.”
She stepped closer to the Lady, the malice in her face now undisguised. “You were foolish to come here; foolish to think we would ever enter into a truce with the Taaweh. With you our prisoner, we will finally have the victory that has eluded us for two millenia!”
The Iinu Shavi knew she could survive the fall, if she could only throw herself over the edge. But she was too weak. Anticipating her move, Imen gave a snarl and viciously shoved her backward. The Lady fell onto the floor of the hall.
The last thing the Iinu Shavi saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the face of the Stronni queen, smiling in triumph.
AFTER Koreh related the incident to him the next morning, Geilin examined the skull.
“Fascinating,” the old man said, turning it over in his hands. He was smiling like a small boy excited by a new discovery.
Koreh gave Sael a sour look. He didn’t find the creature fascinating. He just wanted to know how he was supposed to kill it if they encountered another one.
“This certainly can’t be living in any sense of the word,” Geilin continued.
Koreh bristled. “Are you saying I made it up?”
“No, no,” Geilin quickly assured him, “I believe you. But the creature must have been created by the magic of this forest. I can think of no other way for something like this to exist, apart from magic.”
He sighed, looking at the skull sadly. “If only it weren’t so big. I should like to have one of the dekan’s ömem take a look at it. But there’s no point in carrying this heavy thing around with us.”
For that, Koreh was grateful. He had no desire to put any piece of that monster in his pack.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said as he wandered close to Sek to stroke the horse’s velvety muzzle. “If that thing is made up of nothing but bone and dried flesh and leaves… it might burn. More easily than a living creature, I mean.”
Geilin nodded. “A good supposition. And something for us to keep in mind, should we encounter another one.”
“Now,” the wizard went on, turning his sharp gaze directly on Koreh, “I’d like you to tell me more about those… people?… who saved you.”
Koreh had been reluctant to mention them to the wizard. But Geilin would never have believed he’d killed the monster on his own. And if he did, that might cause him to underestimate the creature if they happened upon another one. For everyone’s safety, Geilin needed to know how the thing had really been defeated.
Except that Koreh didn’t actually know. “They carried staves, like I said. And they—the staves, that is—were charged with some sort of spell, I think. Wherever they hit, the creature glowed with a blue light for a few moments. I think it was in pain.”
“No doubt.” Geilin thought for a long time. “Hmm… blue light…. I know of no magic like what you’re describing. Most puzzling.”
NOT long after they set out again, they passed one of the Taaweh stone circles in a small glade near the edge of the road. In marked contrast to the withered forest around it, the glade seemed green and lush, and a welcome fresh, sweet smell drifted on the breeze to Sael’s nostrils. Sael saw Koreh glance at the circle as they continued past, but he said nothing. If he longed to stop there, there was little point in doing so. Geilin had earlier expressed a conviction that they would be out of these woods by the end of the day, and none of them wished to spend another night in this wretched place.
They traveled on through a dreary mist, always aware of the ever-present sickness of the place. Among these gnarled and twisted trees, daylight failed to reach them. They stopped infrequently, attempting to cover as much ground as possible.
Around midday, they became aware of a foul stench hanging in the air—a horrid smell of sewage and rotting meat, like refuse from a butcher shop. It was faint, at first, but grew stronger as they walked, until Sael began to feel sick to his stomach.
“Ugh!” he gasped, covering his mouth with his tunic sleeve. “Is there something dead nearby?”
“More than one thing, I’d say,” Koreh said, his face grim. He held onto Sek’s reins tightly as the animal tugged at them, and its anxious fidgeting threatened to dislodge Geilin from its back.
The horse was beginning to show a reluctance to go forward, and Koreh had to pull on the reins occasionally to keep it moving, alternating with soothing whispers and stroking its muzzle. Sael couldn’t blame it.
“I believe we may be nearing the pond,” Geilin said.
Indeed, within a few minutes the trees had begun to grow sparse, giving them glimpses of an expanse of brackish water beyond. Sael expected to see swarms of insects flitting above its malodorous surface, yet there was nothing. Nothing seemed to live here—not even gnats and mosquitoes.
Koreh’s face suddenly went pale, and he glanced around, his eyes wide. “There is something here,” he told his companions as he slowed to a stop.
Sael looked around nervously but could see nothing he hadn’t already seen. “What?”
“I don’t know. But I can feel it. Something ancient… and rotten.”
From his perch upon Sek’s back, Geilin gave the boy a thoughtful look. “Is it dangerous?”
“Yes,” Koreh responded slowly. “But… not now. Not to us. It knows we’re here, but we’re no threat to it, so it’s not interested.”
Geilin nodded but said nothing.
Sael, on the other hand, was horrified. “How do you know that?”
“I’m not sure,” Koreh said.
Sek appeared to sense it as well. The stallion’s eyes widened nervously, and it tugged harder at the reins. But it was a well-trained animal, so Koreh had little difficulty controlling it.
“I suggest we continue,” Geilin said calmly, and Koreh began to lead Sek forward again, his eyes watchful.
The road crossed the water at its narrowest point, where a swampy area divided the pond into northern and southern halves. The wat
er here was reduced to shallow pools and rivulets of an oily, rust-colored sludge, traversed by a series of small stone bridges or, in places where those had long ago crumbled, by half-rotten planks. The latter were unsteady and sometimes eaten away by the putrid water. The footing was treacherous, and the companions walked cautiously, having no desire to plunge a boot or one of Sek’s hooves into the reeking slime.
Eventually, though, they found themselves back on the dry cobblestones of the road, and it wasn’t long before the pond—and whatever horror resided there—lay behind them.
By twilight, they could see a break in the trees ahead, and they pushed themselves harder to reach it before darkness came.
They exited the forest at the edge of a great chasm, at the bottom of which ran a torrential river. Centuries ago, the Empire Road had bridged the gap, and gigantic stone pillars still rose from the chasm floor, broken and crumbling, marking the path the bridge once took. Upstream, several leagues to the north, a spectacular waterfall tumbled down from the mountains into the gorge, impossible to cross, and the river ran south until it disappeared among the twists and turns of the canyon. Eventually, far to the southwest, the river found its way to the sea. It was the collapse of this bridge which effectively separated the two halves of the kingdom and made the administration of the eastern half impossible from the capital without a regent acting on the emperor’s behalf.
“How will we get across that?” Sael asked, dismayed.
Geilin replied, “There is a path that leads down into the chasm, just a bit north of here. But it’s far too steep to navigate in the dark. And I’m afraid I’ve grown rather weary. We’ll camp here for the night.”
Chapter 8
THE morning dawned bright and clear, the sky at last a bright blue with only a few wisps of clouds drifting lazily across it. Though the task of navigating the chasm still lay before them and the clear sky meant they would almost certainly be spotted by the ömem, the view was breathtaking and beautiful. After the dreary journey through the Dead Forest, they couldn’t help but be cheered by it.
After Penent, Sael heated water for his master’s tea while Koreh and Geilin stood on the edge of the chasm, looking out over it, gnawing on some of the dried meat Koreh had brought. Koreh could easily have caught something fresh in the forest—a squirrel or a rabbit, perhaps. But none of them wanted to eat anything from that evil place.
“How far is it?” Koreh asked. “Once we get across this?”
Geilin smiled and shook his head. For the first time since Koreh had met him, he’d pulled his ratty cowl down to allow the Eye to warm his bare scalp, and it was plain now that he would soon need a shave. “Oh, a long way, yet. On the other side of that forest—” He indicated the trees that came up to the edge of the chasm on the opposite side. “—lies Mat’zovya. In town, we’ll hire some mercenaries to travel with us the rest of the way. For Sael and me, there is still quite a long journey ahead to Harleh Keep.”
Koreh turned to look at Sael, who was busily tending to things at the fire, unaware of the conversation. Geilin followed his gaze and seemed to be contemplating something for a long moment before he said, “You’ve proven immensely helpful to us thus far. We would be grateful if you could see us safely to the town.”
Though he was loath to admit it, Koreh had begun to grow used to Sael and Geilin’s company. And when it came down to it, what did Koreh have waiting for him back at gü-Khemed? Nothing. Besides, he wasn’t particularly anxious to trek back through the Dead Forest by himself.
“I’ll go with you to Mat’zovya,” he told Geilin.
The old wizard smiled and clapped a hand on Koreh’s shoulder. “Thank you. I feel Sael and I will both be safer for it. Though,” he added with a wink, “I doubt he’ll admit to it.”
No, Koreh thought, as Geilin returned to the fire, leaving him alone to look out across the enormous chasm toward the forest beyond. That stubborn ass wouldn’t admit he needed me if he was halfway down the gullet of a dragon and I was holding his feet.
He glanced toward the campfire again and cursed under his breath. The morning light was making Sael’s blond curls shimmer softly around his head. Why did he have to be so damned beautiful? He was an arrogant bastard, like all the nobles Koreh had ever dealt with. Well, Geilin wasn’t too bad. But most of them were convinced they were better than any peasant—better than Koreh’s family and all those the nobles had let die in the plague.
Koreh could never let himself forget that.
THE path down the side of the chasm was extremely steep and narrow. It would have been nearly impossible to traverse on horseback, so Koreh took the lead, holding Sek’s reins, with Geilin and Sael following on foot. The going was treacherous, and it was approaching midday by the time they came to the river.
They paused to rest in the shadow of a fallen pillar that lay in massive fragments along the river’s edge, looking like the skeletal spine of some enormous beast. Geilin found a stone to sit on while the horse grazed in a nearby patch of grass.
Sael followed Koreh to the river’s edge to survey the way ahead. The water was clear but several feet deep and fast-moving. The opposite shore was at least a couple hundred feet away, with a wide expanse of gravel and stone before it reached the other wall of the canyon.
How the argument started, Sael wasn’t quite sure. It was almost as if they were angry with each other before they’d even opened their mouths.
“It’s too deep to ford,” Sael muttered, “and we’ll never be able to swim it.”
Koreh snorted derisively. “I could.”
“It’s moving too fast.”
“For you, maybe.”
Sael couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to fight so hard not to slug someone. None of the apprentices in the capital would ever have dared talk to him in that tone. Koreh’s arrogance was unbelievable.
“Go ahead, then,” he retorted. “Master Geilin and I will find a shallower spot and fish your drowned corpse out of the water when it washes up on the other side.”
“I wouldn’t drown,” Koreh said, coolly. “But I’m not going to leave it up to you to find a safe place for the old man to cross.”
“He’s safer with me than he is with you.”
“You?” Koreh spat out, “You can barely keep yourself alive, never mind anyone else.”
That did it. Sael swore and shoved him—hard.
Koreh didn’t fall over, as he’d half hoped he would. The young man took a step back but appeared otherwise unfazed. Those crystal-clear blue eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw tightened. For a moment, Sael thought Koreh might strike him. But instead Koreh simply walked away, heading downstream.
Sael let him go.
He returned to Geilin, seething with frustration. The wizard must have witnessed the altercation, because he raised his eyebrows and commented, “Perhaps angering our guide might not be the wisest course of action.”
Sael grunted as he sat down but didn’t have anything more coherent to say.
Koreh was gone long enough that Sael began to fear he’d abandoned them. When he looked upriver, Sael could see no trace of him. But it was difficult to see past the fragments of the stone pillar. Koreh might be nearby. Sael couldn’t tell.
Just when he began to contemplate searching for Koreh—something he dreaded doing, as it would have been tantamount to admitting that he and Geilin did need him—Koreh appeared. He’d found a long tree branch and was using it as a walking stick. He walked casually, as if nothing had happened.
“There’s a wide, shallow part where the bridge used to cross the valley,” he announced. “We can cross there.”
“All right,” Sael said. Then he quickly turned away in case his relief at Koreh’s return was obvious on his face.
THE spot Koreh found was marked by the bases of eight stone pillars jutting up from the water in two parallel rows, some rising hundreds of feet to where the bridge used to be and others broken off at various points, their pillars lying in t
he riverbed in fragments. The base of each pillar was about thirty feet wide, surrounded by islands of silt and small stones, polished smooth by centuries of rushing water. Long seaweed-like plants grew in the water, obscuring the riverbed in places. The river was, in fact, considerably wider here than it had been farther upstream, but from what Koreh could see of the rocks and sand under the surface, the water wasn’t more than three or four feet deep, and not nearly as fast-moving as it was near the path.
He stripped off his tunic and breeches and turned around to find Sael staring at him with his eyes wide and his jaw gaping open. “What are you doing?”
“These are the only clothes I have,” Koreh replied, baffled that he seemed so alarmed. “I don’t want to wear them dripping wet for the rest of the day.”
“You don’t just strip naked in front of people!” Sael said. His face had gone pale.
“You don’t?”
“No! And certainly not outdoors!”
This made no sense to Koreh. Before the plague, he’d lived in one room with his parents and four siblings. It had been impossible to worry about who might be watching him undress. After the plague, the city guards had forced him to undress and do other things he didn’t care to remember more times than he could count.
Clearly things were different for a noble. But that was Sael’s problem.
“If you want to drench your clothes,” Koreh replied calmly, “go right ahead.”
Sael threw up his hands in disgust, which was just fine with Koreh. As he bundled his tunic, breeches, and boots together in his cloak and tied them with his belt, he saw Geilin smiling and shaking his head at both of them. How, Koreh wondered, had the old wizard ever managed to put up with Sael for all these years?
Still, Geilin didn’t strip down either. Maybe it was rude or socially unacceptable or whatever to undress in front of people if you were highborn. So be it. Koreh wasn’t expecting an invitation to dine with the emperor this afternoon.
