Death and Resurrection (The Ballad of Broken Song Book 1)

by Simon Birks

  *

  Aponser was aware the girl had been awake. The desert life taught you to have one eye open, whatever it was you were doing. Aponser had listened to her stirring, to her opening her bag.

  What does she have in there?

  Then, no more than two minutes later, she heard the girl put it back and lie down.

  Aponser breathed. She would wait, like she always had done. It would be worth it, she knew.

  Click

  Sogal sensed something was wrong before Pinto or Fijefel did. Pinto had put the dog down, and it was walking just in front of them. Sogal stopped. Pinto stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Fijefel whispered.

  It was quiet within the Shroud. They seemed to be the only ones making any noise. It was unnerving.

  “Sogal seems agitated.”

  Pinto listened as Fijefel’s breathing slowed. There was a noise. Short, clicking. It was difficult to tell where it came from. The Shroud seemed to reverberate with it.

  “Click!” Pause. “Click! Click!”

  Fijefel squeezed Pinto’s hand. She crossed in front of him. He felt Sogal leave his side, and assumed the dog was with Fijefel. The woman led them off to the left, possibly away from the clicking noise.

  “Click! Click!” it repeated. “Click! Click! Click!”

  There was an urgency to Fijefel’s movements. They weren’t treading carefully anymore.

  “Click! Click! Click!” Pause. “Click! Click! Click! Click!”

  The clicks were getting louder. It was getting closer.

  They started to run. It was difficult. With each step, Pinto felt his stomach dip just before his foot hit the floor.

  “Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!” So close now. They entered water. It was loud, fast. They turned and were running against the flow.

  “Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!” sounded again, though muted by the sound of the stream.

  Then he felt the water wash over him. Disorientated, Pinto wondered whether he’d fallen without realising. It was possible. He raised his hands and braced himself for impact, but nothing came. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands.

  He could see them. His hands were there, albeit faintly. Above and around him, luminescent seams ran through the rock, giving everything a purple glow. He turned and saw the vertical sheet of water they’d just passed through.

  “It’s a waterfall,” he said.

  “Get your sword,” Fijefel whispered to him. “Wait here.”

  He watched the woman move back against the wall. She put herself flat against it, and turned her head away from the entrance.

  “Click!”

  It was still there. Whatever the thing was that’d been following them. Pinto braced himself.

  “Click! Click!”

  A dark shape pressed itself against the water. Pinto thought it might turn to go, but it didn’t. Something, maybe an arm, pushed its way through the water at about hip height. Then its head broke through the water, and it stopped for a moment.

  “Click!” came the noise. Its head moved and Pinto got the definite impression it was looking at him. “Click! Click!”

  Then it rushed at him and the warrior tensed for impact. It never came. Instead, Fijefel peeled away from the wall, and in one swift movement severed the creature’s head from its shoulders. It went down.

  “Click!” it managed one last time.

  “Thank you,” Pinto said.

  “You are a God, it is my duty,” Fijefel said.

  “If I was a God, I could have killed it myself. What do we do now?”

  “Wait. Just in case it had any friends.”

  They waited in the gloom with the sound of the water tumbling and hitting the floor of the opening. Sogal sat patiently, baring his teeth but silent. Nothing came.

  “So, the Shroud can’t pass through water?” he asked Fijefel when she had sheathed her sword.

  “Apparently not. I have not ventured into it before, and not known of anyone who ever came out.”

  “Do you know what sort of creature this is?”

  “A dangerous one. It must use sound to see.”

  “Makes sense in here.”

  Fijefel stood looking around, working something out.

  “Can you swim?” she asked.

  Pinto nodded.

  “Apparently so. Does the stream head where we want to go?”

  Fijefel smiled.

  “I believe so. It should take us out of the other side of the Shroud. That should give us a good enough lead on the others. I need to rest now, though. Then we’ll go.”

  Coincidence

  After their meal, Hoep and Orsa moved away from the Inn. They could be violent places, especially as the night wore on, and they didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a fight.

  “Rest,” Orsa told him, when they’d found a small hollow to sleep in.

  “Aren’t you tired?” he asked her.

  “Tired, yes,” she said, “But I rarely sleep.”

  Hoep smiled at her.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” he told her.

  “I rather think you’re taking care of me.”

  Orsa watched as her travel companion lay down on the floor, using his arms for pillows. Within a couple of minutes, he was asleep. She worried for him. Without the relative safety of the Telar-Val, he was exposed. And speaking of them, he definitely needed to get out of their uniform. Orsa cursed. She should have looked for something he could wear, sooner. The longer he wore the uniform, the greater the risk of attacks.

  She looked back in the direction of the Inn. Much as she’d have liked to return, she didn’t want to leave him exposed out here.

  She rested her head and closed her eyes.

  There was another noise. A low rumble. Not in the air, but coming up from the ground. Wheels, she thought, and before she’d had time to realise, she had picked up her bow and arrows, and was on her way towards the road.

  *

  The carriage wasn’t the most opulent mode of transport she’d ever seen; the horses looked tired, and the driver sat slouched and bored. On a different night, she would have waited for something better, but tonight Orsa wasn’t after luxuries. She just wanted ordinary clothes.

  She knew the driver wouldn’t notice her, but the horses were a different matter. She didn’t want to spook them. Better to be in and out without anyone knowing she’d ever been there.

  She waited, watching the carriage trundle towards her. It drew level, then rumbled past. Then she was running, crouched low near the wheels, their thunderous noise filling her ears. She caught up to it in moments, and ran in synch. Orsa reached forward, grabbed a faded embellishment, which was as good a handle as she could hope for, and pulled herself on-board with almost no effort. She scrambled up and over the top, where she hoped the cases would be fastened. Sure enough, there they were. She glanced at the exhausted driver, who seemed more concerned with what lay in front of him than what was behind.

  She examined the cases, neither looking for a nice one, nor for the driver’s possessions. It was difficult to tell who owned what. Orsa sighed. She didn’t want to get too far away from Hoep, so found one that wasn’t too large, and cut its securing rope.

  That was when she saw movement; low, running alongside the coach, at least three, probably five wolves. She thought about jumping off the carriage, but that might make her the prime target.

  “We need your help,” came a girl’s voice from behind her.

  Orsa turned and saw the girl, young, around ten years old, standing behind her. She hadn’t heard her at all.

  “If you don’t help us, we will all die.”

  *

  Visenai looked at the young woman in the cape. She had felt her mind’s presence from a long way off, and tracked it all the way here. It was a strange mind, and it hurt the girl to be connected to it.

  The wolves had been different. They’d been like small wood splinters you didn’t know were there, until the moment you
put the slightest pressure on them.

  There were five wolves, big and hungry. It could just have been a coincidence that this woman and the wolves had arrived at the same time, but it didn’t matter. If coincidence saved your life, then Visenai was happy to accept it.

  She couldn’t see the face under the hood, and for a moment, she wondered whether the face existed at all.

  *

  Hossip suddenly woke up to what was going on. He heard the wolves running alongside the coach, and now talking behind him. One of the voices was Visenai’s, he was sure. He glanced at the wolves. Swift and many.

  What surprised him most was his focus. Before now, he would have been worried, probably terrified. But now, he was confident. The carriage would keep going. There was a destination, and he was playing a part in reaching it. It was a strange feeling for him. It had spread out over his back, collected at the base of his neck, and pushed up into his brain. It felt odd, uncontrolled, but not at all bad.

  For the first time ever, Hossip felt brave.

  *

  Orsa took the bow from her back. She looked at the weapon. It felt good and right in her hand. One of the wolves howled.

  Orsa nocked an arrow, took aim and fired. There was a yelp, and one less wolf.

  She shot another arrow, and another wolf fell away. Still the last three chased the carriage. Orsa aimed and released one more time. When the third wolf fell, the others pulled away, disheartened.

  The girl gripped Orsa’s arm.

  “You must go,” she whispered. “The wolves. They can smell your friend.”

  See in the Dark

  Orsa knew how to run; she had been running for a very long time. No sooner had the words been spoken by the child, then she was mid-air heading towards the forest floor. She hit, rolled forward, and sprang to her feet running. She still held the bow in her hand, along with three arrows.

  “We’ll be here,” she heard the girl shouting behind her.

  Orsa couldn’t see the wolves, but she could hear them. Twenty feet in front and running faster than she was.

  The trees were speeding past her. She couldn’t remember exactly how far she had travelled with the coach, so wasn’t sure when the wolves might find her companion. The thought crossed her mind she could let loose one of the arrows. She could roughly predict where the wolves might be, and while she was almost certain it’d miss, it might slow them by a fraction of a second. It was a crazy idea, but she had nothing to lose.

  The thief secured two of the arrows, and then brought the bow up with the third. It was impossible to keep still whilst running, so she estimated as best she could, waited until she was mid-step, and released the bowstring. The arrow whistled through the air. She didn’t hear it hit anything, but she thought she heard the wolves slow down, as if they were wary.

  She kept running. It was near black, but the girl with the Vengeance inside of her knew how to see in the dark.

  “Hoep,” she called out, although her words got stuck in her throat. “Hoep!” she tried again. It was louder, though still not loud enough. “HOEP!” she screamed. That might have got his attention. It might have got everything’s attention, a voice in her head said.

  Then she recognised something. A formation of trees perhaps, or a crop of low bushes. Something triggered a memory, and the thief knew Hoep was close.

  “Hoep!” she called again. There was panic in her voice. She retrieved an arrow, loaded the bow, and broke through the trees into the clearing where she had left him.

  The two wolves were already there, savagely tearing at something on the ground.

  “No!” the thief screamed, and fired the arrow. It shot into the nearest wolf, who didn’t even make a sound, just fell, dead. Orsa leapt, let go of the bow, and grabbed the remaining arrow. She was in flight, anger spilling out of every pore. She could have been screaming, or that could have been inside her head.

  She saw the wolf turn and look up at her, saw its hind legs tense as it prepared to leap. It was big, probably the alpha male. Orsa and her arrow suddenly didn’t seem so certain.

  Then the wolf fell, too, dropping like a stone. Orsa, mid-flight, could not change her trajectory. She landed on the beast, battering whatever last breath it had out of its lungs in one swoop. Once again, she rolled on landing, hoping the land was as flat as it seemed in the gloom. Her foot snagged on a root, and she ended up face down on the ground, amid the leaves and the insects.

  “Looking for me?” said a familiar voice behind her.

  Orsa pushed herself onto her back, and saw Hoep standing there, a pointed and bloodied branch in his hands. Orsa smiled with relief.

  “I thought…” she said.

  Hoep crouched.

  “Not today,” he said, and meant it.

  The thief laughed, as happy as she’d been in a very long time. There were tears on her face. She didn’t think she was capable of crying anymore.

  “You’re quite resourceful,” she said, impressed.

  Hoep nodded.

  “I guess I am.” He looked at the arrow in Orsa’s hand. “You’re not so bad yourself. Where were you?”

  Orsa pushed herself up.

  “Let me show you,” she said.

  A Roof and Four Walls

  Ma Poppun frowned.

  “Are you sure they’re coming back?” she asked.

  The light of the lantern on her face made her look older.

  Visenai nodded without hesitation.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And we can trust them?”

  Visenai shrugged.

  “As much as we can trust anyone. Sometimes it’s the trusting that makes the difference.”

  Hossip came around from checking the horses holding the other lamp.

  “They’re tired,” he said. “But fine.”

  “Can we reach the Inn?” the cook asked. “It’s not safe out here.”

  Hossip nodded.

  “It’s not safe, you’re right. But I’m not sure it’s any safer at the Inn. At least the beasts out here are predictable.”

  “How’s your back?” Ma Poppun asked.

  The man looked younger than he had a few days ago. There was a spring in his step that she hadn’t noticed until now.

  “It’s good,” the coachman replied. “It feels, connected. Different. Stronger.”

  “That’s good.” Ma Poppun turned to see how Visenai was. She didn’t like it that the girl was out here. She wanted her somewhere with a roof and four walls. “Shall we get back…” she started saying. Ma Poppun stopped. The girl was no longer there.

  “Where’s she gone?” the cook said, panicked. “Where’s Visenai?”

  Hossip looked around.

  “She can’t have gone far.”

  “We’re going to have to start look…”

  “It’s all right,” Visenai said. “I’m here. I just went to collect these.”

  The girl held out the arrows, the wolves’ blood staining their tips and shafts.

  “But anything could have been out there!” Ma Poppun said. “Anything!”

  “But it wasn’t,” the girl soothed. “And now we have arrows.”

  “Arrows without a bow…”

  Visenai took Ma Poppun’s hands.

  “We have a bow,” she said.

  At the edge of the lantern light, Hoep appeared. Hossip tensed, as did Ma Poppun. Hoep raised his arms. In one of his hands was the bow.

  “There’s nothing to fear,” he said. “We’re just as scared as you.”

  “We?” Hossip asked.

  Hoep nodded up towards the top of the carriage. Ma Poppun turned and saw a cloaked figure looking down at them.

  “I’m Hoep,” the man said. “And the lady up there is my very good friend, Orsa.”

  Ra Pinto

  Pinto was awake. But he had slept, and he felt all the better for it. Off to his left, Fijefel still slumbered. Dreaming, if the noises were anything to go by. It could even have been a nightmare. Considering their
last few days, it was quite likely to be a nightmare.

  Pinto looked at his body. It was strange. For so many years he had carried around more weight than he should have done. But he’d been happy. His body had been his own, and however much he dreamed of being a warrior, he knew he’d been called to a different role.

  Now here he was, muscle upon muscle. Here was a man people would look up to. Yet, he still felt every bit a Ka. On Whate, he would now be called Ra Pinto. Warrior Pinto. It was a strange thought.

  Fijefel shifted again. Something didn’t seem right with her. If it was a nightmare, it was only getting worse.

  “Fijefel,” he whispered into the near-darkness. “Are you all right?”

  The woman shifted, groaned, grew short of breath.

  Ra Pinto knelt on the stone floor next to her.

  “Fijefel,” he said, louder.

  The woman twisted. Something creaked. There was something happening to her. The woman stretched without stretching. She grew physically longer. Ra Pinto gaped at her as her face changed. Her shoulders grew broader; her physique became more muscular.

  The warrior gasped. He recognised this person! This was the guard, the one he’d escaped with. The one he’d assumed had perished when they’d escaped from the tower. He was Fijefel. He was the hunter.

  Ra Pinto sat back and laughed.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.

  On the Road

  “So, you’re a Telar-Val? A Ja?” Ma Poppun asked Hoep.

  The man nodded. It was easier then telling her the truth.

  “I’m a Jin,” he said. “I was a few years off a promotion.”

  “And the woman, Orsa?”

  “We met on the road,” Hoep said. “She’s a thief.”

  “A thief?” Ma Poppun said. “Could come in handy.”

  The coach rumbled steadily forward. Visenai was on the roof with Orsa, whilst Hoep and Ma Poppun rode in the carriage.

  “How did you come to be on the road?” Hoep asked.

  “We lost our house,” the cook said. “It was overrun. We were lucky to escape with our lives.”