Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series

by Blake Hausladen

  I nearly interrupted her, but she continued, ‘You have many questions, I am sure, about the dark power and the pain. All of this must wait as I have much to tell you and not much strength left. The season is very old.’

  I wanted to tell and to ask her many things but held my tongue as Avin had taught me. My quick thoughts could not be wise. It was time for me to be quiet and to learn.

  She spoke then of Edonia and the Chaukai, the murder of the druids, and the invasion that swept Kyoden’s kingdom into the sea. I learned of the ghosts, the three Chaukai who had escaped with an heir, and the reason Barok’s coming to Enhedu was more important than my own.

  ‘The Vesteal,’ she said to me, ‘came from the distant East. They were priests of the Shadow, and it was they who created the Hessier and taught them the magic that threatens to destroy the earth.’

  I gasped but did not interrupt her.

  ‘But creating such beings cannot be done by simple men. The magic the Shadow gave to the Vesteal opened their ears, and like you, they began to hear the Spirit of the Earth. They learned the truth of the world from Her whispers, and they chose to sever themselves from their maker and swear themselves to the Earth.

  ‘It was a dark and terrible ritual of bloodletting and sacrifice they performed—a magic born from the black heart of the Father. The Vesteal emptied their veins and the veins of their children upon the earth until almost all had perished. But She was stirred by this grave sacrifice. She accepted their allegiance. In return, She gave to mankind the ability to call upon Her magic and gave to me a voice that men could hear. And this pact will remain as long as the blood of the Vesteal walks the earth.’

  “If their line ends, men will no longer be able to sing to her?”

  ‘Yes, Geart. The blue light would be extinguished, and only the Shadow’s magic would remain. The Hessier’s icy magic would go unchecked, and the world would be destroyed.’

  “The Vesteal fled here?”

  ‘Yes. They escaped with their followers upon great ships, guided only by the sound of my voice. For fifty days, they sailed across the cold ocean, found these shores, and conquered the barbarians who defiled me and my kin. I taught the followers of the Vesteal the song I mean to teach you, and its magic ended the march of the ice. The Kingdom of Edonia was born that day and spread south over the centuries.’

  “The singers—they were the first druids? They could make magic like I do?”

  ‘They were, and they could. They kept Edonia free of the touch of the Shadow, and once a generation they gathered to perform the Song of the Earth. Their way of life became known as Adanas.’

  “But then the Hessier came ... were able to cross the warming tundra,” I said heavily, knowing the rest.

  ‘Yes, driving the Zovi and the fiction of Bayen before them, they came with but one goal—an end to the Vesteal.’

  “But why didn’t the Hessier finish it—kill every man and woman in Enhedu until the magic failed?”

  ‘Like all men, their selfishness can become immeasurable. The god they invented has much sway over men. Bayen would be a hollow fiction without the blue light of the healers. The faith its touch inspires is strong, as you know.’

  “The Chaukai do not know these things?”

  ‘They know of the battle between the Earth and the Shadow and that the druids and the blood of the Vesteal must be preserved for this fight to be won. Nothing more. Your coming will be of much import to them.’

  I worried then what part Barok would play in the magic I would make. I did not want to, but I asked the terrible question, “And the blood of the Vesteal, must it be shed when I sing to Her?”

  ‘Yes druid, it must,’ she whispered sadly, growing weaker. ‘All through the song, the blood of the Vesteal must pour upon the earth. The more that is spilled, the more lives that are sacrificed, the stronger the song. This is the price the Vesteal must pay for the evil they bore unto the world.’

  I felt so very small and incapable. But what choice was there? Only I had heard her. Only Geart. The only thing for such hard work was to see it started. I asked, “Can you tell me, Great Lady, how I have learned the names of things so that I may learn more?”

  ‘Because you can hear Her answer,’ she whispered, growing faint. ‘Wander the forest, Geart. Ask and learn the names of the trees. Bring me the names in the spring ... the names will rouse me ... look for those who can sing … but tell no one yet of the song.’

  “I will do as you wish, Great Lady,” I promised, and the forest became still. The sky brightened, and I rested my head upon her.

  How many had stood or sat beneath her? Slept under her shade as they searched for knowledge, power, or solace? She couldn’t have spoken to them all. Such a happening would have inspired a religion that would bring Bayen low.

  I asked her more questions. Each went unanswered. I relaxed there and listened for the soft sounds of the forest, but few reached my resting place.

  I was nearly asleep when a sound disturbed me. It had the quality of a cry, like a sobbing child. It faded. The haunted forest did not repeat the disquieting cry. I slept.

  97

  Madam Dia Yentif

  Barok Vesteal

  I led my friends up to the top of the castle. The setting sun was red and angry. The bath and quiet meal had been refreshing, but the details of the day were too close to ignore. A grim business was being performed below. I would have preferred not to watch, but Umera needed to see it. She was still too numb to cry.

  Ringed by our walls and watchful men, most of Kuren’s defeated army huddled around small fires. Out upon the surrounds, the rest were hard at work moving their dead slowly south of the town to a long makeshift pyre. On the other side of the keep, Urnedi worked similarly to collect its dead onto the practice field. Family and friends gathered there to wrap the departed in sheets of linen or wool while others worked east of town to erect a proper pyre.

  Pemini tugged quietly upon my sleeve and pointed. Sahin had returned. Behind him were two long columns of Fell ponies. The stragglers of Kuren’s army trudged along between them. I thought at first it was the fat man himself Pemini was trying to point out, but the elation I felt at his capture was squelched by the true target of her attention. Bodies hung across the rumps of too many of the horses, and it was Merit whom Sahin’s horse bore home.

  I tried to get between Umera and the sight of him, but I was too slow.

  “No. Not again,” she wept desperately and began to tremble. “No, please, no. Not again.”

  Fana and I held her while she cried, and I looked to Pemini, hopeful the girl could say something from experience that would lessen the blow. Clever’s loss could not be compared to Merit’s.

  Pemini took hold of Umera by the arm, instead, and turned her around. “Get ahold of yourself.”

  Umera blanched, unsure how to respond.

  Pemini continued, “We are alive now because he and others fought and died. This is the cost of the life we want here. Last season I paid, today it was your turn. Tomorrow someone else will be taken.”

  Umera gulped air, stricken. Pemini would not see it. She dragged our struggling friend along the wall and pointed at the tower below. “You see the men standing guard there? That is where my man stood, every day guarding us until he died. I see that spot, and I am filled with pride. For you it is easier,” she said and swept her hand toward the town. “Look there. Merit built it. All of it. We need only look down the street to see the contribution he made and be grateful he was with us. Get ahold of yourself and be glad our lives here cost so much. A cheap and quiet life takes nothing. Your pain is the measure of how well you have lived.”

  I was startled. Barok’s simple eulogy had sunk deep into who we were.

  The notion took hold of Umera then, too, and she stood up slowly as if recovering from a hard blow. “Yes, it is easier knowing he died for this—for this place. Still ...”

  I took her other arm. “Come, Umera. You should be with Merit now.” />
  She nodded as if to convince herself, and we helped her down and helped her wrap his body. Many of Urnedi’s original residents were gathered there. Some were missing, but I was not ready to relearn the living or name the dead. None of us were.

  Selt appeared through the sally door with Gern, and they had that same look of business about them. They waved in Sahin and Leger and moved to join us.

  “Beg pardon,” Selt addressed me with a gracious bow. “Barok wishes to speak with Arilas Kuren and his general in the hall and has asked that you join him there. First, however, he has asked that I beg from Umera some most urgent aid.”

  She trembled lightly but stood straight as she replied, “Anything at all. Please tell me how I can help.”

  “Thell must be into his nobleman’s clothes and Avinda must be made to look a red hat with all haste.”

  “A red hat? Dress him as one of Bayen’s priests?” I spluttered disbelievingly.

  “Most urgently, yes,” Selt said gravely. “The men of Trace must take back with them more than just tales of Geart’s white light. The sight of a red hat must be what they remember.”

  Umera volunteered excitedly, “Lady Emery had a collection of such clothes. What was made for Thell is also in excellent care.”

  “I could dress as a sermod, if that will help the ruse.”

  “Umera, no,” I said.

  “No,” she replied, though she was still trembling lightly. “It is all right. I will put it on gladly if it would help.”

  “Yes. Please bring it all up to the keep with haste,” Selt replied solemnly. He said to Sahin and Leger, “I will signal when we are ready for Kuren to be brought up.”

  “Up the back way?” Leger asked.

  “No. Up the stairs and across the drawbridge. Barok wants the Tracians to see their arilas climb the stairs with his hands bound, followed by a priest. The gold should be taken directly to the armory.”

  The pair liked the notion tremendously, and both managed a chuckle as they trotted back toward the tight knot of greencoats gathered around the fat man.

  Fana and I followed Umera to her shop, and we all but ran back to the castle with the garments. We found Thell and Avinda in the entrance hall, their faces and hair damp from the quick wash they had endured. We kept the required introductions remarkably brief, the priest expressing his preference for being called Avin. Thell was done first and disappeared upstairs. Avin’s stark black robes and the gray sheath and white shawl Umera donned would have been quite alarming if I’d not just watched a man and woman undressing in common company without a single statement made about it.

  “The smell of the robes is unfortunate,” Umera apologized. “I would have cleaned it all but did not want to touch any of Lady Emery’s possessions.”

  Avin did not quite understand, but I assured her it would not be a problem. She was still expressing her regret as I led her and Avin back down to the sally door where Sahin and Leger waited for them.

  I found the great hall a bit remodeled. Its two long tables were set together lengthwise facing a single chair that sat quite alone in the center of the room. Barok sat behind the long, uncluttered table, flanked by Thell, Erom, Urs, and the unassuming overseer of his timber camps. Thell was as stately as ever in the well-fit azure and white, though his expression bordered on violence. He shot me a quick wink but stayed otherwise stony. Part of the plan it seemed. The room was warm from the trio of fat logs burning nicely in the fireplace behind them, but with only a half dozen lanterns lit, the space was rather dark.

  “I have nothing to ask of you this time but to enjoy the show,” Barok said and pointed to the darkly shadowed alcoves above. Selt and Fana were already seated there in our favorite alcove. I joined them there, and through the window we were treated to a view of Kuren being led past the dismal remains of his army. Their grumbles of anger grew loud, and their cat calls quickened the pace of the slow-moving arilas considerably.

  General Erd and Leger were the first up the stairs, followed by Avin and Umera. Sahin was last behind a loudly-complaining Kuren.

  “Don’t you touch me,” he growled. “I am a descendent of the Zovi.”

  “Simply trying to keep you from falling down the stairs,” Sahin said dryly. “But please, make your own way.”

  “Untie me, then.”

  The fat man stumbled into the room, and his bluster ended there. But it wasn’t Thell he stared at.

  “Evening, Kuren,” Erom said.

  “That’s arilas to you.”

  “No. Just Kuren,” Erom smiled coolly before he turned to Erd. “Evening to you as well, brother. Your wife is well, I trust?”

  Brothers? Our mason wasn’t just from Almidi, he was related to Kuren by marriage!

  Erd nodded and chuckled, “She is as can be expected. I thought I recognized the handwriting. You didn’t really think I would want the gold, did you?”

  “I didn’t know what you would do about it. My missive was aimed at others.”

  The amazing reunion ended there, however, when the general noticed Thell’s dark expression. Kuren followed his general’s eyes and gasped.

  “Sit,” Thell pointed sternly, and Kuren dropped awkwardly into the chair, his hands still bound behind him. Erd took a long step back from him as Barok leaned forward.

  “Every ship, slave, and piece of gold you brought with you belongs to me, as does your share of our orchard and the timber market in Almidi,” he said before he laid his finger upon a document. “This is an accounting of all that occurred in Enhedu over the last few days and a confession of your crimes against the Yentif and our Exaltier. You will be signing it presently. But my guest has a few questions to ask you first. Please do not try his patience.”

  “You’re the one …” Kuren spluttered fearfully at Thell, “… you’re the one who paid for all of this, for Barok’s army. You are from Yudyith, yes?”

  Thell stared icily at the fat man who seemed only more worried by his lack of a response.

  Selt whispered to us, “Kuren thinks that Thell is a royal from the east. We’d hoped he would think him from Havish, but Yudyith will do. Both provinces are loyal to Parsatayn.”

  I was not sure how that was important to us, but asked, “You do not think anyone will believe we built Urnedi with hard work?”

  “Do you?” he whispered back.

  I left the question unanswered as Thell crossed his arms and demanded, “How did Parsatayn convince you that you could get away with murdering a son of the Exaltier?”

  “Murder? I came in support of bailiffs, to arrest him. He assaulted an officer of the chancellery. We bear a warrant.”

  “You mean this one?” Barok asked, and held up the document. “My accidental death would perhaps be blamed upon your conscripts? Did none of your advisors mention that bringing such a force to Enhedu was an act of war?”

  Kuren looked nervously at his general once but did not respond.

  Thell demanded, “How much of Trace does your family still own?”

  “What?” Kuren mumbled, and for the first time looked truly worried.

  “Trace …” Thell repeated slowly, sounding very like Barok as he said it, “… the place you are responsible for. How much of its lands have the Pormes lost over the years?”

  Kuren was chalk white.

  Barok pointed Avin at something out of sight and the black-robed priest returned with the tall map case and opened it toward Kuren. The fat man blinked at the tall sheet, trying to read the legend in the corner. “The Ataouk? Who are you people that you have maps made by the Ataouk?”

  No one answered his questions, and Barok tapped his finger on a thin stack of documents to draw back Kuren’s attention. “This is a land sale contract. It details the range of the Daavum Mountains within the borders of Trace, or more specifically, all of the land the Pormes family owns of those mountains. We understand that most of it is yours to sell. Perhaps this would work better if you told us what part of those mountains you do not now own.�
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  My heart fluttered. Barok meant to cut away a third of Trace and add it to Enhedu.

  Kuren was slow to arrive at the same conclusion. “Sell? Sell our land to whom? At what price?”

  Again no one answered him, and Avin closed the map case. “This one cannot live up to the terms,” he said to Thell. “Let me take him back to Bessradi to face a trial. The Tanayon court would take much more from him than this.”

  Selt and I had to suppress a laugh at Avin’s daring lie. He was going to fit right in at Urnedi.

  “To the Tanayon?” Kuren flinched and coughed. His predicament set in, and his tune completely changed. “No, wait, I see the settlement you are after. Ahh … yes, I’ll sign a confession, which you tuck away for safe-keeping. Right? Yes, okay. Well, the Pormes do own all the land you described. Much of the western range is under hereditary lease, but the men there won’t mind a change in lordship, will they? All can be yours for say, seventy thousand weights? That is a good price, yes?”

  Selt chuckled, “Even now? Bargaining with his hangmen?”

  Thell, though, had something much different to say. He ground his teeth irritably, and stared death at Kuren. “How about I spit in a cup for you and let you go home, instead?”

  Kuren looked desperately around the room again and said to his general, “Erd. Help me. I am being robbed.”

  “Remind me,” Erd said with cold and terrifying anger, “what you said to me after you gave command of the army to the Hessier? … No, you cannot recall? Tell me then, instead, what I should say tomorrow in memory of those you brought here to die.”

  It took another few moments, but Kuren slumped forward in defeat. He dripped a few tears, but the rest was rather dull and took ages. Barok asked him endless questions through the night, and the answer to each was written on one document or another. The bulbous arilas was untied when it was done, and he and Barok signed one sheet after another. General Erd Oklas, Alsman Leger Mertone, and Priest of Bayen Avinda Dooma each signed as witnesses.