Breaker stood silent for a moment, absorbing this information.
Somehow he had always had trouble with the thought of the Wizard Lord growing up somewhere. Obviously wizards started out as human as anyone, they weren't born with talismans in hand and spells in their heads, but he never pictured them as children, growing up like anyone else. The Wizard Lord had had parents and neighbors, perhaps siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, and apparently enemies . . .
He found it difficult to picture.
And the Wizard Lord had killed people in or near Stoneslope, his old hometown—why? Who were they, and what had they done to deserve his wrath? Were they some of those people who had never had a chance to apologize? And was the guide's death merely a coincidence, or had the Wizard Lord arranged that, as well, so that the rest of Barokan would not hear what he had done?
No—surely, no Wizard Lord could be so petty as to kill a woman in childbirth just to keep a secret. Still, Breaker felt a certain foreboding; fie hoped it was merely because he was among unfamiliar ler.
"Well, now we know why no word got out," the Seer said.
"We don't know," the Scholar said. "We merely assume."
"But his own townsfolk? Perhaps his own kin? Could it really be?" Breaker asked.
"We'll find out," the Seer said. "Tomorrow."
"Well, we will set out for Stoneslope tomorrow," the Scholar corrected. "We may not get there for some time, if the way is difficult, and we may not learn the truth of what happened there immediately upon arrival. The natives may be reluctant to speak to us—after five years of isolation they may view any stranger as an invader."
"Or a savior," the Seer suggested.
"Indeed," the Scholar agreed.
"Tomorrow, then," Breaker agreed.
[16]
As they set out across the grassy hilltop Breaker could not shake the feeling that he was being watched—and he suspected he probably was. The Wizard Lord could have eyes and ears anywhere, after all, and would certainly take an interest in three of the Chosen venturing out into the wilderness unguided, on their way to his own old home.
And then there were the ler around them, here as everywhere in Barokan—and once they passed the boundary stone halfway down the far slope those ler would be wild, untamed, and unknown. No priest had bargained with them, no pacts bound them, no powers restrained them except for the protections inherent in being Chosen, and the three travelers were deliberately walking into their territory uninvited and unguided; ler of land, tree, and sky would undoubtedly be watching them.
The people and priest of the nameless village had wished them well, but had declined to escort them to the border; the priest had admitted frankly, "We don't want to see anything terrible happen to you—and if we watch you cross the border we might not be able to avoid seeing it."
The boundary marker was old, a rough block of black stone with markings so worn by wind and rain that Breaker could make no sense of them. He hesitated beside it and looked at the others.
"Some ler prefer not to be bothered, and propitiatory rites only serve to wake and irritate them," the Scholar said as he came up behind Breaker, "but the majority appreciate indications that we are aware of them and respect their power." He knelt, bowed his head, and pressed his palms to the earth of the hillside below the black stone.
"To whatever powers may dwell beyond this point," the Scholar recited, "we give greetings, and offer peace. We wish you no ill, and intrude only because our duty compels us. Give us what guidance it may please you to give, ask of us what you will, and we will do what we may to speed our passage and fulfill your desires."
"I never heard that particular prayer before," Breaker remarked.
"I learned it from a Galbek guide years ago," the Scholar said as he rose. "It seemed appropriate."
"Let us hope it was," the Seer said. "That way." She pointed.
"That's where Stoneslope lies?" Breaker asked. "I thought it was more to the west."
"It is, but that's where the old trail was," she replied. "I can sense it."
Breaker peered at the ground, and at the brush ahead. "I see no sign of a trail."
"After five years of disuse that's hardly a surprise," the Scholar pointed out.
"Come on," the Seer said, marching past the boundary stone.
The three of them marched on into the wilderness, the Seer leading the way and Breaker bringing up the rear. Breaker could sense the change from tamed ler to wild immediately, and even more strongly than usual; the air seemed to almost buzz with hostility. The feeling of being watched grew more intense, and in fact every time he looked around Breaker seemed to glimpse eyes staring out at him from creatures perched on tree branches or crouching behind shrubs, eyes that would vanish the instant he saw them.
He could feel other ler moving invisibly about them as well, and not merely inhabiting the surrounding landscape— the air seemed to be full of them. Every so often his skin crawled, or turned cool, as a spirit brushed against him. The world around him was alive, not in the calm and ordered fashion of a priest-managed town, or even a trail accustomed to a guide's passage, but as chaotic and seething with life as a disturbed nest of hornets.
Any journey outside the safety of the towns and villages meant crossing the territory of untamed ler, but this area's intensity and alertness were unlike anything Breaker remembered. He wondered whether this was simply because no guide had come this way in years, or whether there was something more to it. Weeds and twigs tore at his legs, the ground was uneven beneath his feet, the breeze clammy on his skin even when no ler were making themselves obvious. And then he felt the eyes upon him again, and turned to look, and this time they did not vanish.
"Oh," he said, stopping where he stood. The others stopped, as well, staring up into the trees.
They were just squirrels, Breaker told himself. Squirrels, and birds, and chipmunks, and snakes, and lizards.
Nothing to be frightened of, surely; there were no monsters, no great beasts, just the ordinary inhabitants of the wood—but they were all motionless and staring, their gaze fixed on the three travelers ... on him, Breaker thought. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.
For a long silent moment everyone and everything simply stared; then a high, cracking voice broke the silence.
"You shouldn't be here," a squirrel said, speaking in the Galbek dialect.
Breaker let out a choking gasp of stifled laughter; the unexpected absurdity of a squirrel attempting to give them orders was too much to accept.
But then, he knew it wasn't really the squirrel speaking. He was fairly certain it wasn't even one of the local ler. The urge to laugh vanished completely, and he stared up at the squirrel unhappily.
He had not wanted this to happen. He had desperately hoped that they would go to Stoneslope and find a good, reasonable explanation of who the Wizard Lord had killed and why, and would share a laugh about their concerns and then go on about their separate business.
But if there were a good, reasonable explanation, this squirrel would not be telling them to go away.
"Lord," the Seer said, "it is our duty to be here."
The squirrel cocked its head and peered down at them from its branch. "Why do you call me 'lord'?" it asked.
The Seer grimaced, and turned away in disgust; it was the Scholar who replied.
"Lord, if the ler of this region made use of talking animals, not only would it have been reported in the local tales and legends, but this would not be wilderness. If ler will speak to us, then we can negotiate with them; if we can negotiate with them, then terms will be reached, sooner or later, and men and women will settle in the vicinity. This is how priesthoods begin."
"And what if the ler's, demands are too great?" the squirrel asked.
"Lord, you know the practices followed in Drumhead and Bone Garden; what demands could possibly be too great, if those were not?"
Breaker did not know what practices were followed in Drumhead and Bone Garden, bu
t he had heard men and women calmly discussing the necessity of murdering an innocent child every year to please one set of ler, and visited two other towns that practiced human sacrifice as well, so he did not doubt that the Scholar knew of far worse—and he did not want to know the details.
"Lord," the Seer said, before the squirrel could respond, "I am the Seer. I know you, no matter what form you might take or what creature you might speak through. You know that."
The squirrel blinked, then turned and fled; it was a crow on a nearby branch that squawked, "Fine, then. Have it as you please. You still shouldn't be here."
"It is you who should not be here, Lord. We are doing our duty, weighing your deeds, and it is not your place to interfere."
The crow fluffed its wings and shook its head, and then a second crow spoke. "You're wandering in wild country. You might be killed—and if you die, then my own magic is lessened."
"If that is your concern, Lord, then you need merely see to it that we do not die. You are the Wizard Lord; surely, you have the power to see us safely to Stoneslope."
Another squirrel answered, "But I don't want you to go to Stoneslope. It's not safe there, either."
"Nonetheless, we must go."
"You won't like it," the second crow warned.
"That may be."
"The ler here don't like you."
"We have done nothing to harm them. We have not seized control of their creatures as you have. We wish only to pass quickly through their realm."
The remaining leaves above their heads rustled at that; a murmur ran through the forest, and several birds and chipmunks stirred from their staring. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
Nothing spoke.
The sky began to darken; Breaker looked up through the trees at gathering clouds. "I think we had best move on," he said. His hand slid down to the pouch that held his talisman, reassuring him that it was securely in place.
The Seer glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the two crows.
"I think we should go now," Breaker said, as the leaves stirred anew. "There's . . . the weather is strange. As if a storm were coming, even though it's daylight." As he spoke he noticed that the woodland's inhabitants, the birds and lizards and squirrels, were starting to slip away, taking cover wherever they could.
"He may . . ." the Scholar began.
Then there was a great fluttering of wings, a scampering of claws; Swordsman and Scholar both ducked as birds flew close overhead. The congregation of wildlife scattered in all directions, and wind whipped at the upper branches.
"He's gone," the Seer said, turning. Then she paused. "Mostly, at least.. ."
"We need to go" Breaker bellowed at her over the rising gale. "We need to go now"
"He won't harm us," the Seer said. "He wouldn't dare ..."
"But the ler might!"
"He won't let. . ." Then she stopped in midsentence, looking around, as tree limbs began to creak.
Breaker grabbed her arm and tugged. "Come on!" he shouted. Shouting had suddenly become a necessity if one wished to be heard.
Slowly, as if confused, the Seer came, the Scholar close behind, and the three of them trudged on toward Stoneslope. They had taken no more than a dozen steps when the storm broke, and cold rain pelted at them from a sky that had been blue and white just a few moments before.
Breaker staggered in astonishment as the first drops struck his back. He had felt rain before, when he slipped out of the house late at night, but now it was day. It did not rain in the daytime in Barokan.
But that was because the Wizard Lord, who controlled the weather, did not allow it.
And obviously, right now the Wizard Lord was not playing by the established rules. After his initial shock, Breaker pressed on. Daylight rain or no, they had to reach Stoneslope.
The rain was heavy and soaking, but they ignored it as they half-walked, half-ran through the woods, in the direction of Stoneslope. The Seer was no longer pointing out the old guide's trail, but Breaker really didn't think it mattered anymore. The local ler knew they were there, certainly, and he could only hope that there was no local equivalent of the Mad Oak on the path they were taking—and such a menace could well have arisen in a formerly harmless spot in the five years since the path was abandoned, in any case, so the fact that they might have left the old path might not even matter.
Breaker prayed silently to the ler, telling them he was only doing what was required of him, that he was Chosen and doing his duty, and hoped that would be enough to protect him as he charged ahead through leaves and brush.
But then the Seer pulled at his arm, redirecting him.
Breaker was unsure whether she was still following the old route or simply aiming them more directly toward Stoneslope, but he did his best to obey her and follow her lead.
The rain quickly became so heavy that they could see only a few feet, heavier than Breaker had ever seen even in the darkest spring night, heavier than he had known was possible, but that was not a real problem; the Seer was following something other than ordinary vision, and Breaker and the Scholar were following her.
They hurried on through the wilderness for hours, slipping on dead leaves or uneven stones, branches slapping at them, the rain beating down and the wind roaring, but there were no more talking animals, no more blatant manifestations of magic other than the unnatural weather. Breaker could not be sure, given the torrents soaking him, but he thought the hostile feel of their surroundings had lessened, despite the storm—perhaps the local ler had heard their conversation with the Wizard Lord and decided to tolerate them, as the less arrogant of the intruding factions.
And then at last they emerged from the forest into . .. not fields, as Breaker had expected, but younger forest. The great old trees were absent, but hundreds of saplings had sprung up on every side.
And the ler changed, from the vague inhuman hostility of the wilderness to screaming terror and agony. Breaker had never before experienced anything even remotely like it; he bent double at the initial shock as his shin brushed past an overgrown boundary stone, then fell to his knees, clapping his hands to his ears.
It did no good; the screams were not audible, but spiritual.
"Oh, my soul!" he gasped. "What is it? What happened here?"
"I don't know," the Seer said, and Breaker saw that she had remained on her feet, but was staggering. Lore had reacted in a more logical fashion—-he had stepped back across the boundary, back out into the wilderness.
"We have to go on," the Seer said, her gaze fixed on something ahead that Breaker could not see.
"Yes," Breaker agreed. "In a moment." He tried to straighten up, and on his second try regained his feet. He closed his right hand on the hilt of his sword, and jammed his left into the pouch that held his silver talisman and closed his fingers around the sharp-edged shape.
That helped; the psychic battering of the town's ler weakened, as if a curtain had dropped around him.
Behind him the Scholar took a deep breath, and advanced again across the boundary. Together, the three of them pressed on, across what might once have been tilled fields but were now a tangle of shrubs and brambles.
And as if their persistence had broken the Wizard Lord's resolve the rain slackened at last, and ahead of them Breaker could see looming black shapes, the walls and roofs of the village of Stoneslope.
The structures did indeed look black; even when the rain subsided to a faint drizzle and the clouds thinned from black to gray, even as he stumbled nearer, Breaker still saw only vague black shapes.
And then at last he was close enough to see clearly in the dim light of the overcast afternoon, and he saw that the buildings really were black—or at least, what remained of them was blackened with soot and smoke. Shadows flitted among them—apparently the local ler had taken on some of the characteristics of smoke, and retained them.
Breaker staggered to a stop, and stared at the charred ruins. Not a single structure was intact, n
ot a single roof whole; walls were broken, doorways shattered, and the greasy black smoke stains covered everything.
"What happened?" he asked again.
"That's what we're here to find out," the Seer said, slogging ahead through the flooded remains of what had once evidently been someone's garden.
"Is anyone here?" the Scholar shouted, in a passable imitation of the Galbek dialect.
"Hello!" Breaker boomed, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Can anyone hear me?"
"There's no one alive," the Seer said, pushing aside the bit of charcoal that still hung from one bent hinge in the doorway to the nearest house. "No one human, anyway. Not for miles. Just the three of us, and one of the Wizard Lord's creatures, watching us."
"But the village . . ." Breaker looked around, at the overgrown fields and the burned-out remains of the town. It appeared to have been almost as big as Mad Oak, covering the entire hillside for which it was named and a fair bit of the neighboring valley; that meant it had been home to dozens, or hundreds, of people, perhaps as many as half a thousand. "Where did they all go?"
"Nowhere," the Scholar said, stooping and pushing aside a charred beam. He held up half a skull. "They're all still here. That's what you feel suffering. Those screaming ler are the souls of the dead."
"A// of them? They can't be!" He looked around, and was horrified to see lumps that looked very much like more half-rotted bones scattered and half-buried here and there.
"I wish you were right," the Seer said from inside the ruin. "This is what I saw, though. This is where I felt those deaths."
Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 Page 17
