Forge of the Jadugar

by Russ Linton

  She could sense her presence was less a breach of protocol and more a violation. Even after it had been well established she wasn't the captain's type, Nanda remained territorial. For the two lovers, these quarters weren't just a place to hold conference outside the turmoil of the deck.

  "A little respect for our dignitary," said Baladeva. He'd taken the opportunity given by the calm seas to freshen his makeup and held a brush in one hand and a bronze mirror in the other. "As I said, Mistress Kaaliya is the Jadugar's apprentice."

  "You believe her?"

  "Why else would we have been provisioned and sent off by the Attarah himself?" Baladeva set the mirror on his table. "I understand why you're suspicious. I might've played a little part in that," said Baladeva, squinting through the space between his thumb and forefinger.

  "I know you have a history with her, but none of this makes sense. You would do well to be suspicious too. A woman Jadugar?"

  "Darling," Baladeva said with little affectation. He placed the brush next to the mirror. "This is my ship and she is a welcome guest. You're being insufferably rude. We'll have to discuss your punishment later." Baladeva graced Nanda with a wry smile which had the ferocious man counting nails in the deck boards. "Our Jadugar in training has command of the expedition, and we're at her service. She's indicated we'll need to do more than set eyes on this phenomenon and report back. We'll need…" he leaned out around Nanda's slouched figure to eye her. "What exactly?"

  Kaaliya straightened. "Proof. Knowledge. I can't say what we'll find, but there has to be some clue as to why this has happened. We'll need to explore."

  Nanda closed with the captain, blocking her view entirely with his broad shoulders.

  "If exploration is to be part of this mission, I should go."

  "You are needed here." Baladeva's face flushed, and he swung his feet onto the table and picked at a spot along his trousers. "Besides, you saw her, she climbs like a gibbon."

  "She'll go alone?"

  "I'll take Talemok. And Firetongue."

  "Who?" asked Nanda.

  "Two of the Ek'kiru," replied Baladeva.

  "Sir, you can't send a woman and Ek'kiru." Nanda's jaw set. "If you need someone to scout these mountains, I'll go."

  "You will not." Baladeva was on his feet, and his demand was sharp and crisp. A desire to sweep across the distance between himself and Nanda burned like a fire in his eyes, but he held in check.

  "Bala," Nanda blushed as the pet name slipped, but his lapse, in this space, she understood. "Captain, this is a mission of grave importance, for the glory of the Attarah. Relying on a girl and bugmen…"

  "You're staying." His words were final, any sign of weakness retreating beneath the frozen scowl of his scarred lip.

  "Yes sir." Nanda hung his head low. He'd lost face in this private setting, a place Kaaliya could tell he was forever favored.

  She couldn't help but wonder if the first mate were right. She'd frozen up during the storm and watched as the sailors clung to life. Baladeva had almost lost someone precious to him, and there was no reason she hadn't put her life at risk instead. By design, her own tempest had changed few lives. Chakor might mourn her until the sura kicked in. No one else. A bugman on a pilgrimage?

  "If you choose to return, I can't stop you," she said. The captain dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  "Why did you even ask me here?" Nanda said.

  Surrendering any pretense, Baladeva moved to the first mate's side. "Kaaliya asked that you be here, and she was right to. This is a decision we must make together."

  "Then explain to me in your own words why it is you wish to do this."

  Baladeva frowned as he considered his answer. "The Night Cutter has taken me to so many glorious places, though I've rarely been given the chance to share them with such perfect company." Their eyes locked, and Kaaliya knew she had faded from the room. "The edge of the world, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be there with. You'll go there with me?"

  "Always."

  "I'll tell Firetongue and Talemok," she said, slipping quickly outside.

  Salt and earth greeted her, and she closed the door, stealing one final glance at the two men waiting eagerly to have their private sanctuary restored.

  Fate? Love? She'd known many men, but she'd never shared that intensity, that raw power of emotion. Even familial love for her had been broken and careless. Maybe it took two men skirting the edges of existence to forge such a bond.

  "Are you truly prepared for what is to come?"

  She looked up to see Firetongue sitting with her legs dangling over the top deck. She'd likely heard the entire conversation through the drafty door.

  "I thought I was," Kaaliya said. "I thought I was doing all this to force a change in my life. Instead, I think the experience itself is what's doing the changing."

  "Then who do we share these experiences with?" asked the blunt matron, indicating herself and Kaaliya.

  "Anyone who'll listen," Kaaliya replied, trying to lighten the Ek'kiru's mood.

  "Listen? Speech isn't quite the same thing."

  "No, I guess it isn't."

  ***

  Sequestered in his quarters with Nanda, Baladeva's last orders had been to maintain a course skirting the shadow coast until dawn. That heading had left them a sky of featureless void on one side and the other dusted with constellations. In the dark, it was as if Kaaliya stared into a new Pit yawning above her. She slept restlessly on the deck with the blanket given to her by Baladeva pulled tight over her head.

  Light woke her, blasting through the porous cloth. Excited Ek'kiru trilled all around. Underneath their clamor rumbled the accompanying groan of the mountains. The mantra continued as the rocks split and cracked deep in the clouds like sharp peals of thunder.

  This would be an interesting day.

  She rubbed her eyes and stretched. Sun peeked over the horizon, soon to be lost again behind the feet of the Pamanites. Ek'kiru clung to the masts, the rails, the rigging. Baladeva held watch at the prow, having woken at some hour before mere mortals were meant to be awake.

  Talemok approached the captain, his head nearly turned backward. He pointed a slender arm, and Kaaliya followed. A rocky protrusion pierced the clouds where he indicated. She watched the Ek'kiru head toward a coil of rope and drag the length behind him.

  Baladeva shouted a heading. Nanda returned the call from where he'd taken up Talemok's steering along with two Ek'kiru. Lithe bodies scurried along ropes and planks, the three sails cracking against the wind as the Night Cutter reluctantly agreed to their demands. With seas so calm in the shadows, the graceful ship seemed to have grown complacent, weary from the previous day's ordeal.

  A kind of night fell as they sailed underneath the mountains. Dawn continued, gave one fitful spark, and disappeared until the sun would later find its way above the peaks. She moved to stand at the captain's side, and he twitched his scarred cheek as shadows fell.

  A hideous screech roared above them. She eyed the crew. Nanda cast a nervous glance up, and the Ek'kiru paused. Of the two humans, the already battered one dropped to the deck and began blubbering.

  "Son of a bitch," muttered Baladeva, low enough only Kaaliya could hear. "What do you think that sound is?"

  "A stone sky shifting and sliding," she whispered, trying to pinpoint it.

  "If, Jadugar's apprentice, you told me it was the voice of hell itself, I'd believe you."

  She listened longer, hearing past the whisper of the Night Cutter against glassy waters. Rocks grinding, breaking and then—a final snap followed by silence.

  "Hard to port!" she yelled.

  Baladeva squinted at her, but shouted, "All hands! Hard to port!"

  Nanda echoed the cry and cranked hard on the rudder arm, his two Ek'kiru helmsmen easing the burden. Sails shifted and ropes pulled taut. Kaaliya widened her stance to fight the sudden change of course as Baladeva watched where her eyes pierced the clouds.

  She stared as a black sh
ape transited the strip of light between the horizon and the darkness above them. A piece of night hurled from the sky, a boulder the size of a small building struck the calm water far off the bow, but not far enough.

  "Grab hold!" Baladeva cried.

  Kaaliya flung herself toward the nearest mast and grabbed a line. The cowering sailor had curled around the base, and she snatched a fistful of his shirt and held on. Ek'kiru strained to tame the prodded ship, and Captain Baladeva roared defiance as if the Night Cutter itself could respond to his commands.

  The deck jolted and water rushed over the rails. Her footing washed out from under her with the wave, and for a moment, she hung in the air, weightless, fingers straining against the shirt cloth of the sailor. The wave passed, the ship righted and she bounced off the mast, losing her grip on the rope. Crashing onto the deck, she rolled, entangled with the sailor. More hands grabbed them. Ek'kiru shells glistened crab-like in the draining spray.

  "Nanda, give me a tally!" shouted Baladeva as he pulled Kaaliya and the hapless sailor up. Ek'kiru shivered to their feet. Some, like Talemok, maintained their stations as though unshaken. Baladeva kept hold of her arm, water dripping from him in a steady rain, his dark eyes smeared once more.

  "Full count, sir."

  Baladeva sighed and released her then dragged the sailor toward the center of the ship. "If you don't get a hold of yourself, I'll tie you to the damn mast!"

  Kaaliya swept soaked hair from her face, cinching it tight and shaking the tail. She noticed Talemok calmly holding his position by the coil of rope and maintaining a watch on the rocky precipice which he'd spotted earlier. She shoved her hair back under her hat which had only been saved by the strap.

  "Your people aren't afraid?" she asked, approaching Talemok.

  "What is there to fear?" he said.

  "Death for starters."

  He seriously considered her statement and then answered. "My people often choose their death. It is not a time of fear."

  The question she'd wanted to ask the distracted Firetongue earlier came to mind. "What if you die away from your Hive?"

  Talemok twitched and his head canted, antennae splaying outward. Her knowledge of their society must've surprised him. "That would be tragic. When one dies without fully knowing their place, it is always a sad time."

  "Then you should fear dying out here."

  "No. Your captain is correct." He gestured toward the mainmast where Baladeva continued to berate the sailor. "Fear while you experience life may very well lead to what kills you. But if the worst happened, we would try to return our fallen home and even in death their contribution to the Hive would be realized."

  "Then what do you fear?"

  Talemok scratched his forehead with his antennae. "I can't speak for all Ek'kiru, but I suppose what we fear most would be lack of purpose."

  The ship sailed deeper into the shadow of Pama and Kaaliya puzzled over Talemok's meaning. Certainty guided him and his fellow Ek'kiru, an unerring confidence which had been broken in Firetongue's mind.

  She knew the Ek'kiru found value in their work, no matter who the final benefactor was. They rarely worked alone, and their combined efforts became their singular focus. Until she'd met Sidge, she'd never seen one with a personal goal.

  He too had unerringly believed in a greater purpose, though his had involved the ideals of another people. He'd give his life for the Temple, she could tell that much. Personally, she needed a more flexible ideology. Whatever got her through her day.

  What if they all became that way? No longer tied to a greater purpose. Restless, powerful, never taken to fatigue and discovering personal ambition.

  If Firetongue's ominous words were right, the rest of the Ek'kiru might live that way soon. The matron had reached out to knowledge gifted to those beyond the realm of the living, a knowledge Talemok and the rest placed all their faith in and waited unerringly to receive. This strong, tireless people might lose their guiding compass.

  Kaaliya watched Firetongue staring into the west as the space between sea and cloud narrowed. Like the lamps in Stronghold, Firetongue's gaze felt wrong. Something dangerous flickered there, and her focus never wavered from the towering walls of stone.

  CHAPTER XXX

  Had they not briefly caught sight of Chuman far ahead, Sidge would have thought the trail vanished. Once free of the pass, it veered toward the mountainside where it curled like the inner seam of a robe, winding higher and higher into the opal twilight.

  Sidge watched Izhar's ragged breathing with concern. The flagging old mentor shuffled slowly beside him. His former Master's loud, boisterous demeanor had completely left him. He appeared frail. His paunch had dwindled to a swell, not having eaten anything since the marsh. Neither of them could tell exactly how long ago that was.

  Sidge had lost his own appetite after they'd crossed into this Timeless Age and before. Thinking of food made him ill. Despite this, he felt energized as they continued the pilgrimage. Walking in the footsteps of the Attarah was no longer an empty saying.

  Once they reached their destination, Izhar would be healed like he had. All they needed was to press on and find the strength to endure. Vasheru and the Attarah would reward them.

  Chuman tromped up the trail, oblivious to the sheer drop. Where his feet hammered, shards of granite flaked and hopped into the empty sky. Izhar's wan stare followed.

  "Amazing, isn't it," Sidge began, "to follow the Attarah?"

  Izhar stopped and leaned unsteadily against the rock face, his cheeks red and splotched, and Sidge worried he might collapse. He took several breaths before he spoke.

  "We've seen moonstriders. The face of Vasheru." Izhar studied the incline ahead. "Our Attarah walks on metal bones and follows the songs of wells and trees. This is beyond mantras or commoner's tales. I can't say what we'll learn, assuming I can make this damnable climb."

  "Shall we find another way?" asked Sidge.

  "There will be one way," said Izhar, his frayed zeal returning. "If that ox can make it, so can I." He continued up the steep path, one hand on the granite wall.

  "Very well, I can assist you." Sidge stepped between Izhar and the sheer drop and flexed his wings. He hooked an arm out for Izhar to accept. The maneuver prompted a disapproving eye but a second look at the precipitous drop caused the old master's face to scrunch in concern.

  "Yes, Master," Izhar said as he linked arms.

  Sidge wiggled his antennae. "I would offer either way, as Master or pupil."

  "I know you would." Izhar sighed. "And I'm grateful." Sidge couldn't help but notice the grip, tight and claw-like.

  Some cosmic shift had finally occurred between them which had begun in Stronghold when Izhar handed him his corestone. They had fully traded places and not just as master and pupil. The switch was deeper, more potent. Their locked arms reminded him of the grip atop the wall of the Stormblade Temple when he was a child, the master clinging to his charge for fear the winds would carry him away.

  "They tread on sky and stone," recited Izhar while he carefully picked his way over a pile of shards left by Chuman's passing.

  Sidge nodded. "The Winding Stair, from the Rebellion, naturally." Izhar's arm shook in his, the erratic cadence of the infirm. He wanted to say something to lighten the mood. "Good to hear you've done your studies, acolyte."

  The former master gave a tight laugh.

  "Then I suppose I know what comes next, right?"

  "Yes." Too late, Sidge recalled that the correct response ran counter to his intentions. "Bloodfield."

  A rigid focus settled into Izhar's brow.

  According to The Rebellion, atop the mountain was the fertile valley where the Attarah had faced Kurath's warriors. A battle in those heights had handed a defeat to Kurath. The slaver had sworn vengeance. With the Temple in such disarray, that vengeance was surely at hand. This Wisdom, these Truths were being given just in time. He and Izhar had but to understand them.

  Izhar's weight shifted more and more
onto his arm. So many years this man had guided and protected him. Mistaken or correct in sheltering his bugman acolyte, Sidge understood how he would have done the same.

  Higher and higher they went and a soupy fog began to form, their only beacon the methodical crunch of Chuman's heavy footfalls. Sidge noticed Izhar's steps beginning to match the distant march in a meditation to overcome the endless climb. Clack, step. Clack, step. Hypnotic, like the bells and chimes used in ceremony and to train young acolytes in the proper pacing of their mantras.

  Lifted through the haze by the rhythmic pull, Sidge centered his mandibles on the open sky. On either side, his lenses took in the clouds resting against the mountains like a frozen sea. Smooth, silvery humps breached the clouds, and he nearly asked Izhar what they could be before thinking better of it. Drawing the struggling mentor's attention to the void he tottered so close to might not be the best idea.

  Their guiding percussion stopped. Further ahead, the trail wound into another narrow gap bored through the rock face. With Chuman nowhere to be seen, Sidge guided Izhar into the gap and followed.

  What looked like broad daylight burned on the far side but when they reached the far end of the crevice, Izhar stumbled out, gaping at the sky. Sidge soon understood his amazement. Instead of the light of day they faced the moon.

  No longer balanced on the teeth but firmly captured in the maw of the jagged peaks, the Deep Night moon filled the sky above. The perfect edges of the great sphere were pitted. Dark craters marred sharply defined ridges.

  "Do the Teeth eat the moon?" asked Sidge, in awe, his status as acolyte restored by the indescribable sight.

  Izhar grunted his confusion.

  "Do they eat the moon? Is this why it changes?"

  "I don't know," Izhar answered, gazing at the spectacle, mouth agape. "I don't believe it ever changes here."

  Below the battered celestial eye, wiry brush carpeted a valley floor shrouded in moon shadow. A placid lake reflected the light and the encircling granite cliffs seemed to glow.

  Then everything shifted across his lenses from the center outward, and he chased the shadows until the entire scene was replaced. The lake became a dry, polished bed absorbing the moon's glow. Next, the vegetation molded into irregular mounds of rock, shards glistening under the moon like upturned leaves.