Drakon Book IV: Butterfly

by C. A. Caskabel

  “A passage. There is a passage to the caves, behind the mist.”

  “You say there is a cave behind the waterfall?”

  “Many caves, an endless labyrinth of caverns and chambers. Tunnels that go for thousands of steps. That way,” said Zeria.

  The Dasal, or those who had discovered and used this cave, had even made a path with cobblestones around the waterfall so that we could pass safely through there with the horses. The water was ankle deep, but I preferred to keep my boots dry if we had a long way to go.

  “What do you call this place?”

  “For the Dasal it is the White Doe’s cave. The tale says that this is where the Forest Witch came to rest when she said farewell to the living. And once you’re inside the cave you can hear and see the White Doe. And feel her tears on your skin. You’ll see.”

  Feel her tears.

  “Is this a passage to Lenos?” asked Baagh.

  Zeria nodded.

  “All that is between us and the valley of Lenos is this steep mountain. We call it White Doe as well, but it’s not because of its snow-white crests. No one can climb it, except maybe a goat, you see how it rises, so we are so close and yet completely isolated from them. It has kept us alive for all those years. But the mountain is hollow; if you venture for a few thousand steps in the cave, you come out the other side and into a gorge. From there one can ride to Lenos all night and reach it at dawn.”

  “How far is Lenos? How come they don’t use the same passage to get here?”

  “They? The men of Lenos? This is a cave of skeletons. And not all the skeletons are men. It took the Dasal many years until we learned all its secrets and even more years to create new ones. You go in there without one of us as guide, you leave your bones there forever.”

  We were already inside the cloud and walking faster to avoid getting wet. Zeria turned to face me.

  “Don’t be angry. You have to understand, Da-Ren.”

  “All the Dasal know?” I asked.

  “The men, yes. A few women too. These caves are how we trade, escape, pray. In Baagh’s words, this cave is our heaven and hell.”

  We soon came inside the darkness of the cave, only to see two Dasal men, an old man and a younger boy awaiting us there with lit torches. They kept darting their gazes from Zeria back to the rest of us. The boy had grabbed his dirk and was shaking.

  “They live in here. Every few years a couple of men are chosen to guard the passage. Kill anyone who comes in, or lead him to death. These two volunteered to take on the burden after his wife died,” she said, pointing to the older man. “Father and son. Come, we must hurry.”

  “Horses?”

  “Believe me, we can bring horses through the passage, but they will delay us. Horses get frightened in here. They have two fast horses on the other side,” said Zeria. “Follow me, now. Watch these stones are slippery.”

  The Dasal boy gave torches to all of us, and soon I could lift my head and see how enormous the cave was.

  “Fifty feet high?” I asked Baagh.

  “At least.”

  “Look,” said Vani pointing upwards. No other words described his awe, just his wide-open eyes.

  “It is glowing!” Baagh said.

  “The ceiling of the cave is glowing,” I said and lost my footing as I stepped on a smooth wet rock. Glowing violet. “Like a thousand stars.”

  The violet stars were dancing and moving above us.

  “There are wonders and horrors in here, Da-Ren, but we have no time for this. Follow me, faster!” said Zeria.

  “But what are they? Can’t be stars. And they are moving!”

  “Beetles. Glowworms. Bluefires we call them. They are beautiful to watch if you’re a child but not now.”

  “Now we must save a child,” I mumbled.

  We kept walking deeper into the cave, never having to lower our heads or crawl. In some places where we had to cross water or where the passage narrowed they had constructed wooden bridges to help the crossing.

  “One could come through here with a horse,” I said.

  “Even a horse-drawn cart,” said Zeria.

  “A thousand horses could,” said Baagh still looking upward and for the first time I understood what we had found. One could bring an army through the caves and unleash it on Lenos, before they had time to prepare defenses.

  Twice the Dasal stopped and uncovered new torches that they had hidden to light up.

  “It is not the first time you’ve done this,” I said to Zeria.

  She shook her head.

  “First since I came to live in New Kar-Tioo, with you,” she said. “I did it many times before you came back. This is how we hide, how we travel and trade with the West.”

  “Have you been to Lenos?” I asked.

  “Many times. I used to go there with my father long ago, passing as peasants from the neighboring villages. It is the birthplace of my ancestors after all. We’d load up on herbs and hand-carved wooden amulets and set up a stall at their bazaar.”

  “Amulets?”

  “Yes. They wear their crosses on their chests for all to see, but they hide the amulets in their pockets. You never know which god will be in a good mood when you’re in trouble. We’d exchange them for whatever we needed, usually barley. Clothes. Sometimes a couple of chickens. Never had to ask for cow’s bile,” she said. “I didn’t bring many herbs with me this time,” she said.

  “No need to worry. Once we’re in Lenos, I can get us what we need,” said Baagh.

  The bridge we were crossing was eight steps wide, enough for two horses to walk through it abreast. I wondered if it was strong enough, and pressed harder with my boots.

  “Horse riders could come through here,” I said.

  “We’re here to save one life, Da-Ren, not to waste thousands. Be careful now and follow me closely.”

  There were two obvious paths to follow, one in the center and one on the right.

  “None of these,” said Zeria. Keep left with me; we’ll take the Dark Arrow.

  She walked through a cavernous tunnel that looked like one of the darkest passages I’d seen in Sapul, the walls crafted to perfection, creating a series of pointy arches above our heads. Here it was the water, not men, that had carved the arches. No one would have chosen that path if he didn’t know. The torchlight was strong enough, and a screeching sound was becoming even stronger as we kept walking.

  “Over the bridge,” she said. “Eyes wide open now. You slip, you die.”

  The screeching sound, coming mostly from my left, grew deafening as we got closer. The walls on that side were pitch black, as was the soil under the bridge. They were both moving. The soil, the walls.

  “One torch only,” she said. “They’re awake,” said Zeria.

  “What is?”

  “Firstblade, no, we must go back,” said Vani.

  I wished I had Noki with me at times like this. Or Leke.

  “What are these?”

  “Bats! We’re late. I thought they’d still be in their winter sleep. Seems like they just woke up for spring,” said Zeria.

  “And those?” asked Baagh pointing below a bridge that was over a black bubbling pond, a dark pulp.

  “Are you sure want to know? This is no water. Bat shit, and worms.”

  “What a hell hole,” Baagh mumbled.

  “The worms feed on the bat shit. The bats feed on the worms. Sometimes the worms feed on a smaller bat that got stuck in the shit. You fall into this black pond; it is burning poison. The worms and the pulp will make a skeleton of you, man or bat, in a few breaths,” said Zeria.

  “Why didn’t we go the other way?”

  “We could have. To the White Doe’s grave. There are drawings on the walls there, made I don’t know how long ago, like kids’ drawings on the earth, deer and hunters and stags, painted with red and black on the stone. We don’t even know who made them. It is a great spectacle to witness.”

  “Is it a sacred place?” I asked.

&
nbsp; “Da-Ren, we’re here to save the children. I don’t care about any sacred place now. The White Doe’s cave is a grave. A couple of skeletons of those who chose that path. There’s no way out of it. If you want to make it to the other side of the mountain, this is the only way, through the bats and the Dark Arrow bridge. Move on; we’re halfway.”

  “Firstblade, we shouldn’t,” said Vani. “You know the Legend. Bats.”

  Ouna-Mas and their endless Legends. I haven’t thought of the Legend of the Bats for so long. I was trembling, but it wasn’t fear or Legends that did this, something else. Anger. Betrayal?

  “You never told me—” I said.

  “And I never would,” said Zeria. “The moment we stepped in here today, the age of the Dasal ended forever. It will be you, Baagh, that man, I don’t know who, but the White Doe is not a secret anymore. Once we are back, we need to find a new forest, a new home. South, north, those islands you always talk about. Anything. I broke an oath never to reveal this passage. But if the children die what good will keeping an oath do to me? I never did tell you about this, Da-Ren. And I wish I never did.”

  “If Malan knew…”

  “If Lenos knew! I wish this day had never dawned, but it has. Run with me; we must save the children.”

  We were walking toward a light, and I thought that we were close to exiting the cave. Instead, we entered a different cave where the stone was glowing white, jade, and ice blue. The cave was covered with sharp white blades made of stone, others coming down from the ceiling and other, bigger ones coming up from the ground. Countless pearl-like shapes paved the ground around the path of wood planks that the Dasal had made.

  “Stalactites,” said Baagh.

  “Stala what?”

  “Stala means drop,” he said.

  “These are the tears of the White Doe. They taste of salt and sorrow,” said Zeria. “This is the most sacred place of my people, and you must not touch anything. Just keep going.”

  “This is as marvelous as the Church of Wisdom,” said Baagh.

  “It is their church,” I said.

  Another thousand steps, another bat cave even more ghastly and dark, and then we were out of the cave. It hadn’t taken very long, and I could see the sun beginning to set. There were no more mountains west. I heard a horse neigh and saw the Dasal bringing two geldings. The warmth of the sunlight, the familiar blue of the sky above my head, that joy lasted only for a breath. Baagh was quick to bring me back to reality and wipe the smile out of my face.

  “Welcome to the West, Da-Ren,” he said.

  “Now we hide. Come nightfall, we ride to Lenos,” said Zeria.

  LXXXII.

  The Songprayers, I Forget

  Thirty-Second Spring. Nine days before the Poppy Flower Moon

  On the west side, White Doe mountain rises even steeper, made out of sharp cliffs that only the eagle would find hospitable. Through the hazy white of the dawn I spot the slow shadows of the living and the rigid shapes of the trees, but no colors or features. There will be no glorious sun rising this day, my first morning west of the Forest. The clouds are milky-white and packed together tightly, forming another wall above our heads. Enaka will not see me. I am the first man of the Tribe to make it west of the Forest, joined by an othertriber monk and a blue-eyed woman, the mother of my child.

  By now I know what a god is: what the eye cannot see but only dream. What hides above the clouds, stirs beneath the wood lurks in the dark water. Priests, witches, and kings they thrive because of walls. They know that the walls are their power. Whatever hides on the other side gives them the power to rule theirs. Tear down the wall, and you kill their god, steal their crown.

  I killed a few of those ancient demons that morning, the ones of the Forest Legends, those who had kept us on the eastern side of the world for all those winters.

  We trod carefully through the rocky gorge; it was narrow enough for ten horses to ride in parallel, not more. The stream in the middle was weak and shallow, its water calm. I rode with Baagh and Zeria out of the gorge’s mouth and reached the open valley. Baagh had asked for Vani to stay behind; his face could not be mistaken, and he didn’t speak a word of their tongue. When we reached the valley, we took the main man-made path that led to Lenos.

  “No need to hide. I’ll get us in there,” said Baagh.

  “How?”

  “This,” he said, showing me a gold ring on his middle finger. There were letters on it. “This can get us all the way to the Consul of Lenos. You can meet him if you want.”

  I shook my head.

  The soil was soft from all the carts and horses that had passed before us. We rode through farms and peasant huts, even a village. At first, I thought all the locals were staring at me ready to challenge me, but then they’d just turn around and mind their own business. A redhead carrying a bucket of milk, a lanky man wearing a brim hat and herding sheep, another one with big shoulders and no neck in the center of the village butchering a lamb on a solid trunk of wood, a handful of women—their skin so white—waiting in line to buy from him, even two soldiers dressed in red tunics under scale armor, carrying short spears. They had a few words with Baagh, and then let us pass without any trouble. There were no demons west of the Forest, just common men and women. Not on that day and most likely never before.

  How could we have been so stupid?

  All I had to ask myself was where the Dasal got their clothes from, all those years. Their hides were from the hunt, but the tunics and Zeria’s dress didn’t come from the East, not from trading with us. They would have traded for them somewhere; I should have asked from the first time I came to Kar-Tioo with Rouba. But we never question the obvious when the myths about gods and demons is all we are raised with.

  The path curved up a hillock of oaks, and when we reached its top Lenos appeared in front of us. The city floated like a brown island made of stone and clay on a sea of red poppies. It was that time of spring when one would not be able to tell what was blood and what was flower once the final battle started. We left the horses about a thousand feet away from the walls in a guarded pen, and we proceeded on foot.

  If I had any hope that the battle could be avoided, I lost it as we reached the main gate of Lenos. It was noontime, and the crowds had gathered, on both sides of the cobblestone path that led out of the portcullis. Most women and children were holding the red flowers, a few held white ones, and they cheered as the army of Lenos came marching out the gate. The soldiers were clad in their red tunics, red-gold shields, and scaled helmets, carrying short spears.

  There was no cavalry, just infantrymen walking in four columns, at a steady pace. Their gaze never wandered left or right; I’d seen enough armies to know that they were not peasants. The scaled armor ended at mid-thigh, the tunic a bit lower, and the helmet left a lot uncovered. A man wearing tiger skin above his armor carried their standard, a banner depicting a war-clad winged man.

  Angels. Tiger skins.

  “It’s started already. They’re on the move,” Baagh said.

  “On the move to where?”

  “East.”

  We waited behind the women and the children, the elders and the weak who were cheering their soldiers. Ox-pulled carts followed—a hundred and more of them that took almost the whole day to pass. Their army couldn’t expect to find food in the Forest.

  “Supplies for war,” I said to Baagh in their tongue. I had learned enough after the summers I’d spent with Baagh and Zeria.

  The crowd around me was cheering loudly.

  “Burn the infidels.”

  “Bring their heads,” shouted an old woman raising a cane next to us, ugly and dirty as a man.

  As the priests strolled out the gate, carrying on a flower-covered platform the wooden statue of their god, the crowd knelt, and we followed.

  We were their barbarians, their demons, the monsters to feed their Stories. And they were coming west; they’d cut through the Forest.

  “Are they all we have?�
�� Baagh asked a man who was better dressed than the others, with clean sandals and a large belly.

  “These are the second wave with the supplies. The Capital sent two of its best legions, they’ve already marched east,” the man said.

  “Today?”

  “No, three days ago. And I heard a third wave will follow.”

  A third wave.

  “Are they cutting through the forest?” Baagh asked.

  The fat man shrugged his shoulders.

  The first marching men were now far away from the walls of Lenos, and they had taken a northwest direction.

  “Do they know? About the caves?” I whispered to Zeria.

  “No, nobody does. You see, they head north.”

  “Close to the caves?”

  “No, far north where the White Doe ends. They’ll burn and cut their way through there. Don’t worry about them. Let’s find another entrance to the city, we can’t wait for them,” added Baagh.

  The walls of Lenos were not meant to defend against any army the size of ours, but mostly to keep out those who were not welcome. The stone structure was raised barely four times my height, and there was not even a moat around it. In some places, the stones were only at my height, and they had built with mud on top to make them higher.

  We ventured to the south side of the walls and waited on a line before a side gate, wide for a horse to pass through. Baagh went ahead to talk to the guards before they’d start questioning us and soon we were inside the city walls.

  Lenos reminded me of the poorest streets of Thalassopolis without any of the glamour or palaces. An endless maze of mud streets, most of them so narrow that we’d rub shoulders with the pedestrians coming the opposite way. There were few stone-covered streets, with the biggest one in the middle of the city leading to the inner older walls, wide enough for horse-drawn carts to go through. People were crammed into the smallest of spaces, living on the second and even third floor of plinth structures, emptying their piss and filth out of the small windows and onto the street. The gray and the brown reminded me of Sirol, but the stink and the narrow streets felt like I was inside the bowels of a beast, swallowed along with thousands of other unfortunate souls.