Great Chief (Chains of Honor, Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Yours or his?” Dak asked.

  Yanko tried to tell if that was a joke. Dak smiled slightly, but Yanko still wasn’t sure. His older and more experienced adult advisors seemed to be treating him differently lately. They had gone from telling him what to do to waiting to see what he wanted to do. Was it because he’d killed that soul construct? It was strange that Dak, in particular, would think differently about him for that. It wasn’t as if that had been some odd coming-of-age ceremony in which he was suddenly made a man. And Dak had also killed one.

  “So,” Yanko said, shifting back to the more important topic, “he believes it’s a disease?”

  “From what I’ve heard, nobody’s sure, including the sawbones.”

  “That’s what you people call your doctors, right?”

  “Military doctors. The civilian doctors usually use smaller tools for cleaving people open.”

  “I’m glad I was never sick in Turgonia,” Yanko said.

  Most reputable Nurian healers used magic to repair body parts rather than cleaving them off. Some of the mundane rural poultice and potion makers, such as Arayevo had once been training to become, were less sophisticated, but Yanko didn’t think even they used saws.

  Dak glanced at the two soldiers, then stood up. “They’re preparing the bodies for a funeral pyre. If you want to see them, it had better be soon.”

  Yanko and Lakeo followed Dak out. Yanko wasn’t surprised when the two soldiers trailed after them. He hurried to walk beside Dak so they could, he hoped, speak without being overheard. If Dak would learn to let his mental defenses down long enough for telepathic conversations, private communication would be easier.

  “Are we truly prisoners,” Yanko whispered, “or can we leave if we wish?”

  “I’m sure you could leave any time. Now that my presence is being reported to Admiral Ravencrest, I probably shouldn’t run off with you.”

  “Are you still going to stop me if I try to trick your people?” Yanko asked. “They don’t treat you very well. Maybe you should relocate to Nuria. You could marry Tynlee.”

  “She lives in Turgonia.”

  “Temporarily, I’m sure. When she’s done being inspired by muscular warrior men, she’ll probably go to another consulate somewhere quiet where she can work on her novel.”

  A wistful expression crossed Dak’s face but only for a moment.

  They rounded a tent and spotted General Aldercrest standing well back from two bodies that were wrapped in blankets. Four soldiers argued over a box of charcoal while gesticulating at the bundles and at the ground.

  “Your new continent is lacking in wood, Yanko,” Dak said.

  “I noticed. If the world would just agree to let me live here and improve it…”

  Yanko thought about offering to use magic to burn the bodies, but his stomach quailed at the idea of incinerating human beings, even dead ones. Further, he would be demonstrating more of his abilities. He’d already claimed to be a healer. If Aldercrest knew anything about magic, he would know how unlikely it was for a mage to be trained as a healer and also to throw fireballs.

  “Go ahead, Yanko.” Dak waved to the wrapped bodies.

  He’d stopped as far back as the general and didn’t appear inclined to go closer himself. Did he also think some disease was responsible?

  Lakeo stood even farther back. Maybe Yanko was foolish not to believe some reincarnation of the plague existed here. He didn’t know much about diseases, but there was nothing about a mage’s blood that would make him resistant to a virus. The Kyattese who had once inhabited this land had been powerful mages, at least some of them, and that hadn’t kept the plague from decimating them.

  “I can examine them from here.” Yanko touched his temple and tried to look like a wise and powerful healer, not like a boy shuddering at the idea of unwrapping corpses and looking into their dead eyes.

  Aldercrest squinted at him, then stepped back several paces.

  Yanko stood close to Dak, trusting him to watch his back while he focused on his magic, and closed his eyes. Using his senses, he first examined the bodies for cuts or contusions, perhaps hidden ones, that would account for the men’s deaths. He assumed a doctor would have found such things, but he thought of the pirates and could easily imagine them showing up here and killing Turgonians caught out alone. That mage had alluded to a whole fleet of privateers, and it was possible they were also exploring the land.

  “Did you tell your people about the pirates?” Yanko murmured without opening his eyes.

  “No,” Dak said. “I will. The general hasn’t been open to chatting much. You think they could be responsible?”

  “It’s just a thought. Violence seems a more likely explanation than a disease.”

  “It’s one I’d prefer. I have answers to violence.”

  “Has anyone ever accused you of being a caveman, Dak?”

  “Tynlee, but she said it in a tender way while she rubbed my back.”

  “Ew. You’re supposed to keep such things to yourself.”

  “You did ask.”

  “Only because I thought you were too private and taciturn to share relationship details.”

  “I’ve been feeling ebullient of late.”

  “Really?” Yanko glanced at his face. “You look as gruff and grumpy as usual.”

  “My ebullience is internal.”

  “Hm.”

  Yanko closed his eyes again, aware of Aldercrest watching them with a frown.

  One of the bodies had numerous cuts on the torso, slicing down into the organs, and Yanko’s first thought was that they had killed the man, but he realized they must be a result of the autopsy Dak had mentioned. Had the doctor looked at the organs after death to see if any had been strangely damaged or enlarged? Yanko wouldn’t have any idea unless they were purple or polka-dotted or something glaringly obvious. He hoped nobody asked him to act as a true healer while he was here.

  The other body, the one found near the lake, hadn’t been examined, and there weren’t any cuts or contusions. No simple act of violence could have caused the death. He didn’t know how to tell from the blood if some poison had been applied. Reluctantly, he admitted this wasn’t enlightening him in the least.

  “Where were the bodies found?” Yanko asked.

  Dak translated: “The first one died in his cot. The second one was found this morning where you saw him.”

  “Near that lake,” Yanko said. “Had the first soldier visited the lake the day before? Would your people have taken a drink from it?”

  “Nobody would be that foolish,” Dak translated Aldercrest’s words. “It’s salt water and stagnant. We brought our own water.”

  The general waved toward one of several compact steam vehicles on the edge of the camp. A cylindrical tank was strapped to the back.

  Yanko wondered how they’d gotten the vehicles off their ships but only nodded. “Have others explored that lake?”

  “Nobody’s here for the slagging salt water,” Aldercrest said, “but numerous men have walked around the area, including the lake.”

  No, they were here for the ore.

  “And they’re fine?” Yanko asked.

  “So far.”

  “Is there any other place those two and only those two have been?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  The general gave Dak an exasperated look. His doctor had probably asked all the same questions.

  “Were these two ever in the tunnels in the mountains?” Yanko asked, trying to find the link.

  The general’s expression turned to a glower, and he snapped something that Dak didn’t translate. Dak only shrugged and shook his head. Maybe Yanko wasn’t supposed to have known about the mountains. But that geologist had brought ore into the tent, right before his eyes, so he would have known mining was going on, even if Dak hadn’t nudged him in that direction.

  “One was,” Dak finally said, “but the other has only been around the camp on guard duty and participating in the
initial setup.”

  “Is anyone else sick?” Yanko asked.

  The general hesitated before shaking his head. Yanko checked his thoughts and glimpsed images of a lieutenant that had been coughing and complaining of a fever and sore throat that morning. The general’s aide.

  “Can I look around?” Yanko asked. “To see if anything strikes my senses as off? I’ve heard of Made artifacts that can cause disease and death, so we should rule out something like that.”

  Yanko kept reading Aldercrest’s thoughts, as much as he could. He sensed the man’s instinct to object to a Nurian mage roaming around, but he changed his mind at the mention of an artifact. Such a thing would be a simple explanation, one they could easily deal with, but if it took a mage to find it, he had better use that mage.

  The general flicked his fingers toward Dak and spoke several sentences.

  “You can look around. I’m to go with you. He’s holding me personally responsible for your actions.” Dak’s expression grew even more sour than usual. “We’ll have guards. We’re to stay out of the mountains. The men up there don’t know Nurians are around. They might shoot you on sight.”

  “Wonderful,” Lakeo muttered.

  “Do you have any ideas about what might be responsible now that you’ve looked at the bodies?” Dak asked, as the three of them headed away from the camp, the two armed soldiers trailing them.

  “No.”

  “So we’re just going to wander aimlessly around?” Lakeo asked. “And hope to stumble across inspiration?”

  “I thought I’d aim our wandering.” Yanko veered toward the lake since one of the soldiers had been found over there, and it didn’t sound like the general could say the second one had never been there.

  “Do you sense anything magical about?” Dak asked. “Like the artifact you mentioned?”

  “No, but there could be something that I haven’t sensed yet. Something that was planted here. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would prefer Turgonia not claim this continent.” Yanko wondered if they would have found more ships from other nations if they had continued to sail around the continent. Maybe they should have done that before stopping to snoop on the Turgonians.

  “If it is a disease or the plague,” Lakeo said, “do you have a way to keep us from getting infected?”

  “No.”

  “Your magical barrier wouldn’t work to keep out a virus?”

  “My shield isn’t like glass or wood. It’s semi-permeable, to allow air molecules to pass through, so I can keep breathing if I’m stuck inside it for an extended period.”

  “Are viruses as small as air?” Lakeo wrinkled her nose, looking confused by the conversation.

  “Yes. I could block something airborne with my shield, temporarily, but it’s likely too late. If there is a virus here, we’ve probably already been infected.”

  “Oh.”

  7

  Yanko knelt at the lake’s edge, his nostrils stinging from the stench of decay. He didn’t know if it emanated from the water or the organic material drying out on the banks, but it was stronger here.

  As Aldercrest had said, the water was stagnant, the pool forming when the land rose because it was in a deep, long depression. He couldn’t sense any fish swimming around, but a spiky pink vegetation grew at the bottom.

  “Is everything in there dead too?” Dak stood back from the bank, his arms folded over his chest.

  Lakeo was even farther back, pacing and casting uneasy glances toward the water. The two soldiers stood on the rise, their rifles loosely pointed in the group’s direction, but they seemed even less inclined to go near the stinky lake.

  “There aren’t any fish,” Yanko said, “but I sense some vegetation along the bottom.”

  The silty water wasn’t clear enough for them to see it.

  “Vegetation?” Dak asked.

  “Yes, it doesn’t seem that healthy though.” Yanko didn’t explain further, because he couldn’t find words to describe what he sensed. He didn’t recognize the species and had no idea what it looked like when healthy, but it seemed sickly. Or stressed? “Maybe because of the huge upheaval.”

  “There shouldn’t be vegetation there,” Dak said. “Unless it happened to be in the waters above when the continent rose. That’s what I’ve been assuming happened with all the dead organic matter around here.”

  “No, it’s rooted and growing out of the silt lying down there. Is it possible it’s getting more sunlight than before and that’s harmful to it?”

  “More sunlight?” Dak snorted and shook his head.

  Yanko gazed over his shoulder, not sure what had Dak puzzled but puzzled himself by the idea that sun could be harmful—didn’t all plants need sunlight to grow and exist?

  He’d always assumed that at least some sunlight reached the bottom of the ocean everywhere, but… His gaze drifted toward the mountain peaks, peaks that had recently been underwater. How tall were they? How far below the surface had the land Yanko was standing on been? Three thousand feet? Four?

  Dak must have guessed his thoughts for he explained further. “In the yeknar zone—and, sorry, I have no idea what the Nurian words are for these descriptors—which extends down to about one hundred meters, there’s substantial sunlight. And the majority of plant life and photosynthesis in the ocean takes place there. Under that, you have the keriknar zone, which is dimly lit and extends from one hundred meters to approximately one thousand meters, and there’s supposed to be some animal life down there but no plants.” Dak pointed toward the lake. “In the aroknar zone, below a thousand meters, no light reaches at all. There definitely shouldn’t be any plants down there.”

  Yanko stared at Dak, not because he didn’t believe him—what he said made sense—but mostly because he was surprised Dak had knowledge about this. He knew Dak was educated on all things related to war and engineering and math, but plants? Yanko had always felt that was his realm and that he ought to know more. Admittedly, he’d never farmed anything underwater.

  “I’m sorry I called you a caveman,” Yanko said.

  “You didn’t. You asked if anyone else had.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “I only know those numbers because I got bored while chasing after your mother’s fleet in the Kyattese flugnugstica and read the operations manual. I have no idea how their scientists discovered that information, since the crush depth is three-fifty to four hundred meters for the latest Turgonian military flugnugstica. No human has been down to a thousand meters. Magic, I suppose.” Dak waved a hand as if to dismiss magic as a reputable source of information.

  Yanko smiled at the very Turgonian attitude of his smart, not-a-caveman friend.

  “That stuff was in the operations manual for a boat?” Lakeo asked, apparently close enough to hear the conversation.

  “Yes,” Dak said. “The Kyattese are a people incapable of simply creating operating instructions. They have to add all manner of scientific details to their technical manuals. In case you’re curious, according to the chapter on possible underwater obstacles, coral grows best in warm water, at depths down to three hundred feet, though most reef-building corals grow poorly below sixty to ninety feet. Further, they require salt water and are unlikely to be problematic near outlets of fresh water.” Dak’s mouth twisted wryly. “In the Turgonian operations manual under the heading for obstacles, there are five words. Sea bottom, coral, wrecks, ships. The whole entry takes up less than a line.”

  “And the Kyattese version is a chapter?”

  “A long chapter.”

  “Well, it’s impressive that you remember so much of it.”

  Dak grunted. “What’s impressive is that you apparently have a plant that was growing in the aroknar zone up until a few weeks ago. The Kyattese are going to want to explore this place, I promise you.”

  Yanko had liked it better when everyone thought the continent was an unappealing lump that nobody would want to explore.

  “Is it possible that Yanko’s we
ird plant could make people sick?” Lakeo called down.

  “I… haven’t heard of any sea vegetation that can make people sick, but…” Yanko shrugged helplessly at Dak, wondering if he had any thoughts. If this wasn’t supposed to grow down here, who knew what it was?

  Dak gripped his chin and gazed slowly around the lake. Examining the shoreline? It struck Yanko as unremarkable. There was no living vegetation visible along the water’s edge.

  “I know of a type of algae that grows in Turgonian lakes and tidal waters that’s full of natural toxins that can kill animals and people,” Dak said. “I believe it has to be ingested by drinking the water or eating animals or fish that lived in the water. I mostly know of it because there have been experiments done on the bacteria for…” He paused, bringing his gaze back to Yanko. “Research purposes.”

  Yanko grimaced. If Dak hadn’t added that last line, he wouldn’t have thought anything odd of his knowledge, not when he knew all about the depths at which coral grew. But the pause reminded him that Dak was a military intelligence officer, and Yanko had no problem imagining the Turgonians researching some natural toxin to see if it could be turned into a weapon. The idea of such a weapon, that would be delivered in food or water or who knew what other seemingly innocuous substance, was chilling.

  “I don’t think the stuff down there is an algae,” Yanko said, “but I can’t be sure it’s not related. It doesn’t have leaves or look like anything I’ve seen growing near beaches. It’s hard and tubular. Kind of spiky, like, uhm, remember Akstyr’s hair?”

  Dak’s brow furrowed.

  Yanko groped for a way to explain the plant better, but he’d only seen it with his senses, not his eyes. “I could bring some of it up.”

  “No,” Dak said sharply. “If it’s toxic to humans from under water, leave it where it is.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “How about we do our not-thinking farther away from that lake?” Lakeo called down.

  “A good idea.” Dak waved for Yanko to follow him back to the rise.