The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  Sireth sighed.

  “Birth pangs,” he said softly.

  “Birth pangs?” growled the Captain. “Birth pangs of what?”

  Sherah al Shiva pulled the black silks from her face, the unnatural flame in her hand dying as well. Her words were directed at the Commander but the great golden eyes were fixed on the Seer.

  “Unification,” she said.

  “Unification?”

  “Unification.” Sireth nodded slowly, and turned his attention to the pair huddled on the snowy parapet. Surrounded by terrified, sword-wielding soldiers and cauldrons of oil burning orange and white, he hoped they would all live to see the morning.

  And for the first time in hours, he realized that the singing had stopped.

  Khanmaker

  They had seen no Ancestors since the destruction of the Plan B, so they made it a point to start walking. There seemed no other reasonable alternative. It was spring in Ancestorland and the seacoast was cool and windy. Kerris had managed to catch and dry several lines of fish and but they needed fresh water so reluctantly, they left the shore and headed inland, hoping for signs of human life, all the while dreading what they might find.

  The land was a deciduous forest, filled with ash, beech and serviceberry and they found a creek almost immediately upon leaving the shoreline. Like the road to Ana’thalyia, there were Ancestral ruins as well - saplings grew through rusted carts and foundations of stone were covered in moss and ferns. Also, like in Ana’thalyia, birds were everywhere and once again, Kerris had proven to be an able hunter. Food would not be an issue in this new world, which Fallon had taken to calling Ancestorland. Solomon insisted they were in either Virginianna or Maryland of the Eastern Sea Board, but somehow, Ancestorland stuck.

  After four days, they came upon a fence. It was tall and made of wire but it had buckled in places under the weight of time. Thin trees had grown up through it as well, branches pushing the wire into awkward shapes and there were great gaping holes where it had completely deteriorated. But stranger still were the bodies of the animals at its base. Some were skeletons, others dried as if they had perished in a desert. There were even bones of birds that seemed to have died as they perched on remaining fence posts. It was a strange macabre sight.

  “They look dessicated,” said Solomon.

  “Dessicated?” asked Fallon.

  “Dried. Freeze-dried, actually.” He rubbed a hand along his neck. “That’s weird.”

  “Can you hear that?”

  “What?” said Solomon. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly,” said Fallon, rocking back on her heels. “No birds.”

  She was right. No birds, no crickets. The only sound was the rustle of the breeze through the trees.

  Solomon turned around, hands on hips.

  “Yeah,” he said. “With all these dead critters, there should be flies too.”

  “No flies,” said Fallon.

  “No flies,” Solomon repeated.

  “I don’t like this,” said Kerris. “It smells white.”

  “White?” The Ancestor blinked at him. “It smells white?”

  “And hot. And angry. The air is angry.”

  Tigress and human exchanged glances.

  “Another missile?” asked Solomon.

  “No, but I think we should leave.”

  Solomon studied the fence, the dry forest beyond.

  “Well, a fence is a construct. That implies constructors.”

  “Ancestors?” said Fallon.

  “Yeah. It may be a couple of hundred years old but there may be a city inside. Tech we could use.”

  “We need to leave,” repeated Kerris.

  “And where are we going, Kerris?” said Solomon and he shrugged. “I mean, without the boat, we’re kinda stuck here and it’s quite a long walk to the Canadian Shield.”

  Fallon sighed.

  “Maybe we could find another Humlander?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. Or a Griffen.”

  “Griffen?” said Fallon.

  “Yeah, a GyroRotar--”

  She was staring at him.

  “Never mind. It’s simply astounding the things that are rattling around inside my head.”

  She grinned. “Oh look! A bird.”

  Sure enough, a tiny songbird flitted in through the trees, landed on a thin arc of fence wire, bobbed up and down with quick little motions.

  “Please, we need to leave now,” said Kerris and he began to back away. “The air is very angry.”

  “Kerris?”

  He clapped his hands over his ears, backed away some more.

  “Can’t you hear it?” he moaned. “Why can’t you hear it?”

  Suddenly there was a sound unlike anything they had ever heard and a pulse of light from beyond the fence. All three of them were forced to look away, hands over ears, eyes clenched tight. It seemed like a lifetime wrapped in a blanket of intense light and when it ended, it was a sudden as when it had come. Slowly, carefully, they straightened, looked back at the fence.

  The bird was dead on the wire, dried like a leaf in autumn.

  “Damn,” said Solomon. “Maiden.”

  “Maiden?” asked Fallon.

  “Yeah, MAIDEN. Microwave-Assisted Ion Desorption ENergy. Old tech. Kills living things but leaves structures intact. It was banned when I went under.” He began to back away. “Kerris is right. We better—”

  He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before they noticed white shapes moving beyond the fence.

  “Bones,” said Kerris.

  And the grey lion grabbed his wife’s hand as the MAIDEN fence began to hum once again.

  They ran.

  Back the way they had come, leaping over the rocks and roots of the young forest, but they didn’t get far when the white light pulsed a second time. Without even a cry, Solomon hit the ground hard, rolling and tumbling and finally coming to a stop in a heap on the forest floor. Fallon swung back, releasing Kerris’ hand but the pulse struck her next, causing her slim body to arc violently in midair. She too fell to the ground.

  “No!” Kerris cried and he scrambled back to his wife, dropping to his knees and cradling her in his arms. “No, no, no, no, no…”

  The forest cracked with sound as three figures thundered through the trees, tall and white and entirely unnatural. They slowed when they reached the trio and Kerris looked up at them with wide eyes. He could feel the angry white from within their chests and inside plates of dark glass, he saw the faces of Ancestors.

  “Bones,” he said, rising to his feet. “An Army of Bones.”

  He slid the katanah from the obi, heard the light gather, felt the air breathe deep and recoil into the bones. He knew what was coming but he snarled and swung, the steel slicing a clean line into the white fiber of the thigh. The face behind the glass howled, its voice like the scraping of tin cups when the chest burst with light, cold and white, and then nothing more for some time.

  ***

  Kirin looked down at his brother from the back of his horse.

  “Seriously, Kerris?” he said. “This is sounding worse and worse.”

  Kerris grinned up at him. “And that’s not even the half of it. Head down.”

  As one, the brothers leaned low as their horses scrambled up the set of steps in the starlight, reaching a plateau at the count of twenty.

  It was dark now, the moon illuminating the Wall and painting the mountains in strokes of silver. Snow was floating from the skies and even with the roar of a hundred cauldrons burning along the Wall and the stomp and snort of over two thousand horses, it seemed as if the night were holding its breath. Tomorrow, they would make Shen’foxhindi and everything would change.

  In the moonlight, Kerris reached down to run his hand along the thick, tangled mane. Quiz snorted, tossed his head

  “Thank you,” he said, looking up at his brother. “I never thought I’d see him again.”

  Kirin grinned a sleepy grin. “It was entirely
his own idea. He is a very headstrong creature.”

  “I love him so much. And Fallon and the kittens. Honestly, Kirin, sometimes I think my chest will burst.”

  Kirin looked over his shoulder at the figure of his brother’s young wife, eyes closed, head bobbing as she dozed on the back of her painted horse. After a year on the trail, all of them could function perfectly from the saddle and it was serving her well. They had been riding for four days now and had made good time considering the ice and snow and wind on the Wall.

  “Head down,” said Kirin and together they leaned forward over the necks of their mounts as hooves scrambled up the stone steps toward the next plateau. In the Great Mountains, the Wall rose and fell with the peaks, skirting some, wrapping others and steps were almost as common as battle towers. It made Kirin grateful for the cauldrons of orange and white, for even with the bright cold moon as a guide, the steps were dark under so many horses. A slip or a stumble could mean a break of a leg and a horse that would not live to finish the journey. He marveled it had not happened yet.

  “Have you been counting the cats?” panted Kerris as they reached the next plateau.

  “Counting the cats?” he answered. “What do you mean?”

  “We pick up a few more at each battle tower. About seventy or eighty have joined the front but it’s impossible to count the ones that have joined at the rear. I honestly can’t see that far back. I was wondering if anyone was keeping track?”

  Kirin sat back in his saddle, cast his eyes around at the mass of horses moving together, now merely glinting, jingling scales of a huge lumbering dragon. It hadn’t occurred to him that others would be joining. He hadn’t noticed their number increase, but it made perfect sense. This was a mission of nationalistic pride, and cats were, after all, a nationalistic people.

  “No,” he said finally. “But I’m certain we’ll find out once we reach the foundry.”

  Kerris grunted. “I pulled the sticks this morning.”

  “And?”

  “Five.”

  “Five sticks?”

  “No,” he grinned. “The number five.”

  “And that means?”

  “Death,” the Geomancer lifted a flask of sakeh to his lips. “Five is the number of death. Sakeh?”

  He held the flask out to his brother. Their horses were very close. Kirin could have taken it easily.

  “No, but thank you Kerris. You know how I am with drink. I don’t wish to fall asleep just yet.”

  “I remember. You were mortified with all the snakes.” Kerris pocketed the flask. “Do you think they’ll be at Pol’Lhasa yet?”

  “They?”

  “The kittens.”

  Kirin studied his brother’s profile, wondered if he too was grieving the loss of his children in the same manner as his wife. He’s a wonderful father, Fallon had insisted. Kirin wondered if it could possibly be true.

  “Most likely,” he answered. “I sent a parchment with their nursemaid for Ling’s eyes only. She will see they are cared for, I promise you.”

  “Ling?” Kerris turned to grin at his brother. “You call her Ling?”

  “Aaah…”

  “Kirin? Do you?”

  He steeled his jaw, not certain how to proceed.

  “Well??”

  “I do.”

  “I thought she was married?”

  “He died. Mal’haria.”

  “So sad. Really. Really terribly sad. So, ah…” Kerris’ grin widened. “Was she… happy to see you?”

  He felt the heat in his cheeks but he smiled all the same.

  “Quite.”

  Kerris threw back his head and laughed so that horses startled and soldiers snapped to attention and the entire Wall and surrounding mountains echoed with the sound of his laughter. Fallon opened sleepy eyes and smiled unawares.

  “Oh my dear brother,” Kerris panted, finally wiping tears from his eyes. “Well done, I say. Well done indeed.”

  “Kerris, hush!”

  “They’ll be writing odes in no time!”

  “Kerris, please—”

  “From Imperial gold to Shogun red, he finds himself in a royal bed.”

  “Kerris!”

  “I’ll say no more, brother. But I am glad for you. Really. Truly.” And Kerris turned away from him, the smile becoming a knife on his face. “She’s a better match than your Alchemist.”

  There was an edge to his voice and Kirin understood. Sherah al Shiva had almost destroyed the group with her devices and schemes. Of them all, Kerris had been the most affected.

  “We’ll never be allowed to marry,” Kirin said, eager to avoid the subject of Alchemy. “And I don’t know how long I’ll even be allowed to live. Head down.”

  And they scrambled up yet another twenty steps.

  “They won’t touch you,” said Kerris, once they reached the plateau. They were very high up now and the silver mountains in moonlight were breathtaking. “Not after such a public reinstatement of the Shogun-General.”

  “I’m certain I was being followed in the Palace.”

  “You probably were. And now? On the road to the Gate of Five Hands?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t say. I don’t know.”

  “Hm. Did you see Mummie?”

  And now it seemed Kerris was holding his breath. Their mother was old and he loved her very much.

  “Yes,” he said. “She was happy you were with tigers.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Fallon says you called the katanah out of the sea.”

  “I suppose I did.”

  “She says you can call many things.”

  “Well, our Seer was right on that account.” He released a deep breath, frosting like a snowdrift in front of his face. “The earth is sick, Kirin.”

  “Sick?”

  “Yes. And I think it’s angry.”

  “About what?”

  “The foundry, I expect. It’s a very large mine, yes?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Hmm. Understandable, really. No cat would be particularly happy with creatures digging around inside, taking bits out of you and not saying sorry. Cats are rude that way. No, I can understand completely why the earth is sick and angry.”

  Kirin studied his brother for a long moment before a set of down steps demanded his attention. But he thought on his words for a long while after that, even as the night began to break into the colours of morning.

  ***

  There is more to the making of tea than simply adding leaves to boiling water. Chado is a skill, an art form, a way of life. No one was master of the art of tea like the Alchemists of Agara’tha and none of them more so than Sherah al Shiva. Now, as the sun sent her golden brooms through the narrow window into the main battle tower of Shen’foxhindi, she knelt by the brazier, pouring from an iron pot, allowing the tea to spill over the sides of the cups and deepen the patina of the clay. She had also slipped a few incense sticks into the coals and the cold stone room was transformed into a lair of warmth and peace.

  On a blanket of yak-hide, her baby, Kylan stretched and rolled in a loose garment of golden wool. He seemed delighted with being free, out of arms and packs and slings for the first time in weeks. While too young to crawl, he had pushed up on hands and knees and was content to watch his mother as she brewed. His tufted tail whipped under the woolens and he took in the entire room with large, bicoloured eyes.

  For her part, Ursa had not taken her eyes of him the entire time.

  They were in the upper most level of the battle tower and the doors were barred by leopards. No one was allowed out, although fresh stew had been brought in and Setse had finished three servings, now licking the bowl with her long pink tongue.

  “I am filled,” she said and sagged against the stone of the wall. “More stew would burst my skins.”

  “I’m glad you liked it, little one.” Sireth smiled as he wiped his bowl with the naan. “Any more gravy and you might turn that blue eye brown.”

 
She gasped, smiled brightly and rolled over onto her hands and knees, just like Kylan. She crawled over to study the Seer, her tail waving in the air behind her.

  “Setse,” Naranbataar growled. He had not touched the stew and was leaning against a far wall, arms folded across his chest. “Zogsoogooroi!”

  “Your eyes,” she said, ignoring her brother and staring at the man sitting before her. They were almost nose to nose. “They are colour of Rani’s. Colour of my people’s. I did not know this be possible.”

  Ursa growled, her hands falling to the hilts of her swords.

  Noticing the motion, Naranbataar’s hand moved to the bow at his shoulder.

  The Alchemist continued to pour tea into five small cups.

  “You part dog?”

  Sireth grinned “Not to my knowledge.”

  The young Oracle raised a hand, passed it over the scar on his brow. She frowned. “This, this bad…”

  “Yes.”

  “But…Oh. Oh Rah…”

  She paused, turned to look over her shoulder at the cheetah. Sherah sat back on her heels, raised a cup to her lips, blinked slowly.

  “Hm,” said the Oracle before shaking her head and curling her dancer’s legs beneath her. “You see?”

  He laid the bowl aside. “I don’t understand.”

  “See?” She waved a hand in front of her eyes, then touched her head. “See.”

  “Ah.” He sat back and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Shar Ma’uul see?”

  “Shar Ma’uul?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded and he looked at the Alchemist.

  “It means yellow cat,” said Sherah.

  “Yellow cat,” said Setse. “Shar Ma’uul.”

  “Yellow cat,” he muttered. “Blue wolf.”

  Setse gasped. “Blue Wolf, Yellow Cat! Yes! Yes!”

  “Shar Ma’uul means Yellow Cat?”

  She nodded.

  “Amazing,” said the Seer. “Yahn Nevye is Shar Ma’uul. The Yellow Cat.”

  Behind him, Ursa snorted. Yahn Nevye was nowhere to be found, had not been since the middle of the night when the cage came over the Wall.