The Shepherd Girl's Necklace (The Windhaven Chronicles)

by Watson Davis

  The collar around the man’s neck burst into countless black worms, the magical strands swelling and popping. Wu Cheen twisted and hurled the man away with Sifa on his back.

  The man’s body lay still and Sifa leapt from it, looking back at it. Vile black muck oozed from his mouth and nose.

  “He’s dead?” Sifa stared at the man, waiting. She blinked and looked back at Wu Cheen and Lonyo. “Where is his soul?”

  “What do you mean?” Wu Cheen climbed to his feet and wiped the dust from his clothes as he stumbled to Lonyo’s side.

  “When people die, their souls—” Sifa gestured with her hands, not knowing how to express what she’d seen when other people had died, “—are led away through creases in reality.”

  “When a soul has reached that point,” Lonyo said, leaning on Wu Cheen’s hands to climb to her feet, “when they have been forced to do the Empress’s will and have given up, their souls are pushed out of their bodies until nothing remains of the person they were.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman named Fol-eh said, rocking back and forth on her knees. “I wanted to warn you but I couldn’t.”

  “Help me,” Che-su said, her breathing fast and intense. Dark veins grew visible beneath her skin, spreading like spilled ink from the bites on her forearm and ankle. Lonyo hobbled to Che-su’s side, casting a spell, pushing those dark tendrils back. Sifa knelt beside her and reached in, searching for the focal points of the spell. Energy flashed from her hands, destroying the nodes and dispelling the noxious magic.

  Lonyo reached over and squeezed Sifa’s shoulder, smiling. “Good work. You are a good soul. You could make a difference in this world.”

  Che-su reached up, her complexion returning to normal, and she caressed Sifa’s cheek. “She is a good soul. But we have to leave.”

  Shiyk’yath pulled at the horse’s reins, whistling for the animal to move and bring the wagon around.

  “Yes,” Lonyo said, nodding. “The harpies will be here first.” She motioned to Fol-eh and Bej’a to stand. “Hurry up. On your feet.”

  “You’re not taking us?” Bej’a said.

  Fol-eh staggered to his side. “I brought this on you. Leave me. Let me face the harpies and buy you some time. It will be my atonement.”

  “We will face the harpies together,” Bej’a said, taking hold of Fol-eh’s hand.

  “No.” Lonyo jogged back toward the wagon. “You’re free from the embrace now. I’d hate to lose you again.”

  “If we can’t go with you, where are we supposed to go?” Sifa asked, running to the wagon.

  “Leave us,” Lonyo said, waving her hands. “I can hide the three of us for now. You have to get as far away from here as you can.”

  Che-su climbed into the bed of the wagon and sat down, shaking her head. “We will find a port and we will go to Morrin.”

  “Yes,” Shiyk’yath said. “Morrin will be safe.”

  Wu Cheen tossed Sifa into the back of the wagon and clambered up into the seat. “I’ll show you where the horses are. Let’s go.”

  Shiyk’yath flicked the reins and the wagon bolted forward down the trail.

  “We can’t just run away,” Sifa said, staring back at Lonyo and the two people she’d freed from their collars. “We have to try to change things, to fix the world, to make the world a better place.” She raised her hand and waved goodbye.

  Lonyo smiled and waved and then she disappeared into the trees.

  “Change things?” Che-su shook her head and wedged herself into a more secure position as the wagon bounced and bobbed, and then wrapped her arms around Sifa’s waist. “We would just add our souls to the ones She has already destroyed.”

  The wagon careened onto the road.

  Sifa said, “I want to make a difference.”

  “We cannot stand against the empire,” Che-su said. “There is nowhere safe in this land.”

  Sifa said, “I know somewhere safe.”

  A Safe Place

  THE WINDING ROAD LED through the trees. Birds chirped and bugs buzzed around Sifa. She rode a horse Wu Cheen had given her. The canopy of leaves hid the sun above, until that canopy abruptly stopped and revealed a blue, cloudless sky above. The road led to a glistening bridge of white marble that crossed over the red-hued Dralik-du river.

  On the far side of that bridge, red sand stretched out toward the horizon with a range of black mountains wavering in the heat, with hills of dark rock here and there. Scrubby binka bushes and gnarled black omara trees dotted this barren landscape.

  “Home.” Sifa smiled, and turned in her saddle. “All we have to do is cross that bridge and we’ll be in the Ohkrulon desert. We’ll be safe in the canyons and the gullies until we get to where we’re going. Ka-bes is coming. I feel her.”

  Che-su chuckled from where she sat in the driver’s seat, reins in her hands, Shiyk’yath beside her slumping down with his feet up. “I ordered Ka-bes to take you where no one would think to look for you, and she brought you here. Of course.”

  Shiyk’yath shifted his feet on the wagon’s edge. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone being happy to find themselves at the edge of the Ohkrulon desert.”

  “Anywhere near the Ohkrulon, for that matter,” Wu Cheen chimed in.

  “Ah, you two do not know!” Sifa stood in her saddle, raising her face to the sky, soaking in the warmth of the sun blazing down on her in all its glory. “There is an honesty in the desert, a truth.”

  “But not a lot of drinking water,” Shiyk’yath grumbled. “Or food.”

  “Looks like we’ll have a better chance of hiding if we stay on this side of the river,” Wu Cheen said. He pointed at the river, gesturing upstream. “We’ll be exposed out there on the sand, visible for miles. If we head south, we can stay in the farmlands and forests and follow the Dralik-du up into the mountains. I know some people in the Yabak valley who will be happy to help us.”

  “Like Lonyo? Healing us and then sending us on our way?” Che-su asked. “We need a more permanent solution.”

  “I say we head north, find a port and a ship, and cross the sea,” Shiyk’yath said. “Heading south? Toward Nayengim? That doesn’t seem wise.”

  “The hill over there,” Sifa said, pointing toward the range of mountains glimmering in the distance as though made of water, with smoke spiraling up from the top of a peak. Her horse’s hoofs clopped on the surface of the bridge, but Che-su pulled up the wagon. “That’s where we’re going. We’ll be safe there. We can talk there.”

  “Hill?” Che-su said, squinting.

  “They’re not so far as they seem,” Sifa said. “We can take shelter there. On the way, there are caves and canyons.”

  “Head straight out into the desert?” Che-su asked. “We need supplies first. We need water, food, and tents.”

  “I vote for heading south like I said.” Wu Cheen shrugged. “Maybe we should head to a town, spend the night and gather supplies and decide there. We’re going to need food and water whichever way we go.”

  Sifa shook her head. “Why would we want to find a stinky old town?”

  “Darling,” Che-su said, edging forward on the seat. “We need supplies. We need food. We need water.”

  “Lots of water,” Wu Cheen interjected. “We’ve got horses.”

  Sifa gestured toward Che-su. “Ka-bes said the water is not so far beneath the surface as you would expect. She always pulled it up wherever we needed it.”

  Che-su chuckled, shaking her head. “Where is the nearest town?”

  Sifa pointed to the road leading south, away from the bridge. “Well, there’s one this way, to the south.”

  “Perfect,” Wu Cheen said, nodding.

  Shiyk’yath slumped in the seat of the cart, shaking his head.

  Che-su pulled at the reins and re-directed the cart south, and Wu Cheen’s horse trotted in front, taking the lead.

  “Guys,” Sifa said. She sighed and asked her horse to hurry. The gelding darted to the side of the wagon and
then slowed down, pacing it.

  Shiyk’yath said, “We need to head north, find a boat heading to Morrin, as far away from the empire as we can get as fast as we can get there.”

  “You would abandon our people?” Sifa said, glaring at Shiyk’yath.

  “Our people?” Shiyk’yath said, kicking the side of the wagon and throwing his arms up to the sky. “There is no ‘our people.’ There are merely lots of different peoples. There are Nayens, Tesorans, Galnyans, Sissolans, the Uiyen, Wanderers, a patchwork of the nations conquered by the Empress and the Eternal Council before her, and the Five Kingdoms before them, and I have no idea who before that. Which of these people are you so close to that you can’t leave them and find happiness?”

  “What about your words when I first freed you?” Sifa asked. “What about freeing people from the lies of their lives? You were a rebel then. You were fighting back.”

  “I didn’t realize how big the empire was then,” Shiyk’yath said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was drunk with my newfound freedom and didn’t know what I was saying. Besides, I had two hands back then.”

  “Would you run away from your home?” Sifa stopped her horse to glare at him. “From the duties of your people?”

  “Am I sitting in a boat pulling up nets in Ofo?” Shiyk’yath spread his arms and stared at Wu Cheen as though demanding an answer. “Am I?”

  “No,” Wu Cheen said, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “You’re on the border of the damned Ohkrulon desert with nary a bite to eat and nary a drop to drink.”

  Shiyk’yath smirked at Sifa. “That answers your question. If my main duty was to myself, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “If your main duty wasn’t to yourself, why have you been following me around?” Sifa asked. “I haven’t stopped you from running off to your precious Morrin.”

  “I’ve been looking after you, trying to keep you out of trouble, haven’t I?” Shiyk’yath asked. “I’ve already lost my illusions and a hand. I don’t want to lose anything else.”

  “We can head to the crags and hole up there during the day,” Sifa said, her horse shifting beneath her, ready to get going. “You’ll all feel much better about this once the night cools off, you’ll see. There’s a rhythm to life in the Ohkrulon.”

  “We will go to this town of yours and get supplies,” Che-su said, waving her hand before her face, her skin glistening with beads of sweat that rolled down her face and neck, dripping from her chin. “And then we’ll talk about where we go next.”

  THE TOWN APPEARED FIRST as a smudge of smoke rising above the trees, the plume caught by the hot winds that crossed the Dralik-du river from the Ohkrulon and spread across the sky. Sifa led the others through a bumpy dirt road cutting through fenced-off orchards and groves. The ramshackle wooden buildings of the town appeared as they trudged over a crest.

  “That’s the town?” Wu Cheen asked, his mouth dropping open.

  “Yes,” Sifa said, peering down at the town, at the buildings huddling in a set of concentric circles, all of them constructed of wooden planks in a clearing hewn from the forest. Only the black granite of the temple at the center of the town stood out, radiating a stern menace. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the cookfires within the communal cooking buildings.

  Before seeing the big city and the villages between here and there, Sifa had considered this a city, when it was only a small village. “I mean, sure, it’s not as grand as Basaliyasta, but what’s wrong with it?”

  “I’ve taken shits bigger than this town of yours,” Wu Cheen said, shaking his head, rocking back and forth with his horse’s movements as it navigated the descent toward the town.

  “Is there an inn with rooms and beds?” Che-su asked, leaning forward, fanning herself with her hand.

  Sifa rubbed the scar in her right palm, thinking. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never stayed in town. I only went into town a couple of times.”

  Che-su said, “Perhaps we should be looking for a place where we can camp and hunt, instead of going into town.”

  “Yeah,” Sifa said, her brow furrowing, her stomach fluttering, the memory of her last visit occurring to her. “Maybe this is the wrong town to go to, after all.”

  Dust rose from the trail. Several horsemen approached them, riding fast.

  Che-su pulled up the wagon. “Are you saying we should stop?”

  “We’re this close,” Wu Cheen said, pursing his lips. “Might as well pay them a visit. We need supplies.”

  The horsemen drew closer, not just one or two, but ten.

  “Um...” Sifa stood in her saddle and peered at the road behind them. “Guys, we should turn around and go back to the bridge. This is a mistake.”

  “Do you think they bothered to warn a tiny place like this?” Shiyk’yath asked, turning to Che-su.

  “The harpies have probably been by and left our likenesses,” Wu Cheen said. “That’s what I’d do. Maybe this town thing wasn’t such a hot idea after all. We can loop around it and keep heading south, though.”

  “We should head back to the bridge, cross the river into the Ohkrulon, and hole up in the crags,” Sifa said, gnawing at her lip. She stopped her horse. “I think that would be best.”

  “Too late, I think,” Wu Cheen said.

  “Everyone, prepare to fight,” Che-su said, flicking her wrists. The wagon creaked and groaned, pulling toward the town once more. “Sifa, get to the back. Let’s see if we can talk our way through this.”

  “Yeah, but see—”

  “Shh,” Wu Cheen said, raising his hand toward Sifa to quiet her. “We’re just some travelers looking to buy some supplies. You keep your eyes down and find something to cover your horns.”

  Sifa stood up in her saddle and said, “Yeah, but see, the last time we were here, Ka-bes stuck a dagger into the brain of Rector Idemi.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Che-su twisted in the seat to stare back at Sifa. “Killed a rector? And you were taking us there?”

  “Yeah, well, I kinda forgot about that,” Sifa said. “You asked for the nearest town and this is the nearest town.”

  Wu Cheen lay back on his horse, holding his sides, laughing.

  “You forgot?” Shiyk’yath said. “How do you forget about something like that?”

  “You don’t understand,” Sifa said, shrugging. “They stole our herd, and she wanted to do something to me, probably sacrifice me like that woman in Mendenen, and Ka-bes went a little nuts.”

  The ten horsemen grew closer.

  “We can’t run away now,” Che-su said. She pointed at Sifa. “You can’t do anything to let the Empress know we’re here, unless we’re in serious danger.”

  Sifa gulped. “Right, yeah. I know that.”

  SIFA WHIRLED HER HORSE around, darted to the back end of the cart, and snatched a soiled towel from the bed of the wagon, wrapping it around her head like a turban and covering most of her horns. The tips protruded from the bottom but she couldn’t figure out how to cover them up.

  “Let me handle the speaking,” Che-su said, setting the reins over the front edge of the cart and standing. The cart shifted beneath her, and she steadied herself, placing her hand on the back of the seat.

  “Sure thing,” Wu Cheen said, backing his horse up so that he stood at her side of the driver’s bench.

  Shiyk’yath eased himself down the side of the wagon, dropping down to the ground.

  The horsemen approached, growing larger, their imperial uniforms revealed—ten riders with a woman in red priest’s robes in the lead. Sifa recognized one of the men: Thyu’fest, the landowner who’d stolen their herd. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?” Shiyk’yath asked, peering back at her.

  Sifa bowed her head and averted her eyes, hoping Thyu’fest wouldn’t recognize her.

  “Ho, there,” Thyu’fest called out, raising his right hand to them.

  “May the Empress hear you,” the woman in the lead said, glaring across at Thyu’fest.

  Ch
e-su raised her hand in acknowledgment and bowed, saying, “From your lips to Her ears.”

  Six riders arrayed themselves before the wagon, three on either side of the priestess, including Thyu’fest, but four rode past and took up positions behind, boxing them in. Sifa looked all around her, and inched her horse toward the cart.

  “We would like to welcome you to Ehseaft,” the young priestess said.

  “Thank you,” Che-su replied, making a point of looking at the riders arrayed around her. “Is there a problem?”

  Thyu’fest brought his horse up to Wu Cheen’s, forcing Wu Cheen to back up a step, and he leaned over the pommel of his saddle, smiling broadly at Che-su.

  “This is certainly a motley mob of drudges you’ve got here, lady,” Thyu’fest said. “What brings you to our fair town?”

  “Kind sir.” Che-su touched her chest with the fingertips of her right hand, bowing deeply, a fake smile on her face like a mask. “We are all that is left of a merchant’s caravan. We were beset by outlaws and thieves, our goods stolen, and our friends slain. We come to your fine town seeking aid and a place to recuperate until we can decide upon an appropriate course of action.”

  “Oh?” the priestess said. “How terrible. We will seek these highwaymen out immediately.”

  “Well, that was a fine speech,” Thyu’fest said, sitting back in his saddle and glancing around at the riders. “You sound like someone from a big city somewhere.”

  Che-su stood, watching him with her hands folded together, waiting. The priestess stared at Thyu’fest, her brows furrowed, but she did not speak.

  Thyu’fest coughed, bringing his hand to his lips, but did not hide his sneer. “I mean to say, your ladyship, whereabouts did your caravan come from and where was she bound?”

  “We come from Basaliyasta, and our plan was to create a circuit of the villages and towns on the border of the desert, bringing a sample of wares to learn the needs the people have in these places and then bringing them those goods on subsequent trips.”