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The Path of Destruction
Chapter 1 – In Memoriam
The army assembled to avenge Solgrum's murder didn't take the Farmer's Causeway: the packed dirt road that curved gently to the southeast from the city gates. The trail of the king's murderer led due south, and so the army followed in the same manner.
An hour and a half behind them rode Taylin's party, intent on following them as far as they could on their journey to Rivenport.
By mid-day, Daire City was completely hidden from them by hills and sparse trees. It didn't take Taylin long to point out a likely place to serve as Issacor's final resting place: a rise untouched by the inexorable press of the passing army. Mossy rocks stuck out along its steep slope and it was crowned by two trees with roots that spread, thick and gnarled down half its height and sent up a high, wide expanse of branches that provided plentiful shade.
The group dismounted and set the horses to graze. Brin gave Miser some dried meat and slung a short hobble between his legs to keep him from ranging far.
“It's a good place for him, Taylin.” Kaiel observed reassuringly as he took in the setting. “Worthy of a Prince of Novrom. More than worthy for most of them. The ground’s all rock under a little soil. We'll have to break up some of these boulders to make a cairn.” He had his rifle slung close to keep it from swinging as he walked a short way up the hill. “
Ru ghosted moodily past Taylin, who was carefully unstrapping Issacor's body from the sledge, and came to hover at the base of the hill, facing a large boulder that jutted out there. “Or we can stop wasting time.” Without further explanation, he raised his hands before him as if sighting the boulder using his thumbs and middle fingers, and began to chant.
“What are you doing?” Taylin demanded, directly broadcasting to him her worry that he was going to ruin the burial site.
He didn't respond either by voice or by thought. In his mind's eye, he used the lines formed by his fingers to construct a pattern of ere-a; something quick and dirty, but effective for the purpose. The lines linked together. The energy flowed from him into it, and he felt tension in his hands.
Clenching his fists, he brought them straight back to his breastbone. A rumble came from inside the hill and a section of the boulder and the soil both beneath and behind it turned to dust and exploded outward in a cloud of debris.
Ru was ready for this as well and gestured with one hand to trace a simple vin pattern, then swept it off to his right as if throwing aside a curtain. The cloud of shattered earth rolled away from them to settle in the grass like strange rain. Left behind, was a hole in the side of the hill: five feet square and burrowing eight feet toward the heart of the mound of earth and stone through boulder and soil and root equally.
With a somewhat satisfied grunt, he abandoned the whole proceeding to go sit in the shade and resume his examination of the 'Home' artifact.
Thank you. Taylin sent to him, her pure gratitude radiant in the link.
I just want this over and done with so we can hunt down that masked vermin, Immurai.
Taylin had been expecting a surly, uncaring answer, but not the bone weariness that leaked through with it. Is something wrong?
No. He replied tersely and shut down their connection as best he could.
There were more important matters at hand, so she let him be. With great care, she lifted Issacor's body from the sledge and carried him to the newly excavated tomb. She had to crawl on her knees to see him properly seated inside, but she did so without complaint. When she emerged into the sunlight again, Brin was there bearing his armor and Kaiel, the ceremonial sword they'd purchased for the occasion.
The armor went in at the blade disciple's feet, but the sword had a part to play in the final rites.
Taylin, Brin and Rai stood together before the tomb while Kaiel, who had done some reading on the burial rites of the Mother of Blades as a favor to his adoptive sister, faced them with sword in hand. His voice rang clear and rich in the air between the hills.
“We assemble here in the eyes of the Mother to honor the life and deeds of Aba Issacor Trueddeles, blade disciple in service to the Mother of Blades, son of the Principality of Te Manda. We attend to see him properly laid to rest.”
He set the sword’s point lightly at rest in the soil. “Issacor was our friend. A brave man and an accomplished swordsman who proved both of those virtues last night when he stood in combat against a vile evil to protect children. Issacor fought fiercely and with great skill even when it was clear to him that his life was forfeit.
“There is nothing that we, the living, can do to repay what he has given, but to ensure that even in death, he will pass on his gifts.” He thrust the sword into the sky, point first. “Stand I now and beseech the Mother to look to Issacor's Vault and see that the blades that he carried in Her service be brought forth, for it is baneful to her that a good sword be denied its destiny: To protect. To do battle. To become worthy.”
On the last word, he plunged to sword into the earth, point first and left it there. “And this is a gift to the future, in the name of Aba Issacor Trueddeles, to guard a life, to cut a path to the future as he would have himself. We assemble and pray that he has found his way to Her and the eternal reward she provides.”
They all bowed their heads, save Ru, who hadn't paid attention since carving out the tomb.
After an appropriate measure of silence, Kaiel stepped around the sword and touched Taylin's arm. He didn't have to be mystically connected to her to know she was hurting. “Did you want to say a few words? It helps sometimes.”
She shook her head, throwing her hair, still half-styled and half-unkempt from the night before, and whispered. “I don't want to ruin it.”
He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever you need. We can talk later.” He inclined his head to Rai, who nodded and took over, taking Taylin by the hand and turning her away from the hill.
“Come on, Taylin. We need to break down the sledge before we can move on.”
Once Taylin got moving, Kaiel turned to Brin. “Would you mind...” He asked, gesturing toward the tomb.
“A seal against nekras?” She asked.
“And a cleansing, if you don't mind.” said Kaiel. “May sure his spirit isn't still fettered to this world. Give Taylin a little more closure before we seal the tomb and move on. I'm sorry to ask something so draining of you, but no matter how many rites I know, I'm still no priest.”
Brin looked over her shoulder at Taylin. The normally bright and curious woman was moving mechanically, doing only what Rai instructed her to do and no more. Even her feathers seemed to have dulled with her mood, though that was probably an illusion of the shade.
“No need to apologize.” She nodded. “Reflair.”
The familiar, white mist exuded from the reliquary to drape like a stole around her neck and flowed down to engulf her hands, glowing softly.
“Thank you.” said Kaiel. “Now one last chore on my part.” Steeling himself for reticence and insults, he headed for Ru.
Heedless of his approach, the dark mage leaned back, supported by one arm as he held up the mystery device with the other. His expression was contemplative and intense, like a chess master mapping out turns until checkmate.
“I have half a mind to take that back after your shameful display here.” Kaiel said by way of greeting.
“What? I make a hole to throw his corpse into. That was the bulk of the work to be done, so I see no reason to force me to stand in honor of a man I had no opinion of and beseech a goddess I've never even heard of.” Ru never looked up.
Kaiel went to snatch it from him, but he twisted away and kept hold of it. “It's about respect, Ru. Issacor was a friend to us. He died protecting Raiteria's children; my and Taylin's niece and nephew.”
“Heh. And a great deal of good it did for the boy.” Ru said.
“You gormless bastard.” Kaiel's hands curled into fists.
<
br /> Ru finally turned his baleful yellow eyes on the chronicler. “What are you so galled about? My goal of slaying Immurai perfectly overlaps yours of saving the boy.”
There wasn't really an argument that could be made there. Ru might not care, but he would still help as long as it got him his vengeance. But Kaiel was still angry at him on principle. “Don't you see how hurt Taylin is? Shouldn't you care, if only because the link will punish you for it?”
“Why would it? I didn't kill him. The link only punishes me for my own actions. Though the 'hurting her feelings equals harm' part is new. If you want to make her feel better, go and do it yourself. I am her servant, not her wet-nurse.”
Kaiel gave him another withering look and turned to go back to the still open tomb. “But what you are is a pathetic example of humanity as a race.”
On the way back, he checked on Brin. The elf was kneeling: back straight, heels directly beneath her hips, in front of the open tomb. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved rapidly. According to his limited understanding of docents, she wasn't chanting or performing any other sort of ritual, but reciting a mantra that strengthened her bond with Reflair in order to tap the enormous amount of energy from the Well of Souls required to quickly erect a seal that would keep nekras from gathering around the tomb. If the seal wasn't put in place, a build-up of dark anima might slowly deaden the air, water and general atmosphere of the area.
While she was using the same power source that he did for his personal spellwork, he would never be able to do that, just as she would never be able to conjure emotions into solid form. He resolved to learn more about her abilities on the long road ahead. But first, he had a friend and sister to tend to.
Even if she wasn't nearby, the sounds of splintering wood would have led him straight to her.
With Issacor buried, the sledge had become dead weight that Gaddigan would otherwise have to drag. It was better to break it down for firewood. Rai was standing well out of Taylin's way, coiling the cord and rolling up the tarp that had served as the 'floor' of the sledge. She kept an eye on Taylin and shot Kaiel a concerned look as he approached.
Taylin didn't even notice him. Hunched over the sledge, she kept one hand flat on the outer frame while the other gripped a crossbar tightly enough to leave an indentation on the soft wood. Grunting with exertion, she gave a mighty tug against the sturdy nails that kept the bar in place. They held. The wood didn't. It cracked and split apart around the nails as it was extricated from them. With the leverage gained from that, it was nothing for her to twist the bar free of the nails on the other end.
Once it was loose, she tossed it aside with casual ease and moved to the next one.
“I said we would talk later.” Kaiel said gently as she sidled up behind her.
“I'm busy.” Her voice was quiet and flat.
“You can't talk while you work?”
Another crack. Splinters flew as another crossbar was torn free. She wrenched it away from the remains of the sledge and stood there holding it in both arms. “Kaiel... I don't know what to say. I don't even understand why I feel like this.”
“There's no mystery: a friend of yours died. A close friend.”
“My friends died all the time.” Taylin said quietly. “Kaiel, you don't know what it was like aboard the ships: anyone you got close to could be dead at any minute, be it in battle or from sickness, or just to make an example. Only two days before I escaped, there was a girl... She was another ang'hailene; a half breed. I don't know what her other half was... she thought it was goblin.”
She fiddled with the timber in her hands as if it were a small bauble. “I tried to protect her from the things the Masters did. I wanted to take her with me, but we were taking on cargo and the net swung too far...” She stared blankly at the partly deconstructed sledge as she recalled the sound. The horrible, horrible sound. “Kaiel, she was crushed. I didn't see, but I heard.”
Kaiel reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but her wings twitched and she sidestepped him. “Taylin...”
“It hurt. It still hurts. But this is different. I don't understand why and I feel horrible about that.” She finally looked at him, green eyes full of pain. “Why is that, Kaiel? Why do I feel worse now when I've lost more people than I'd wager most people will ever know?”
The question tripped up Kaiel's entire train of thought. “I... don't know the answer to that, Taylin. But I do know that you can't control how you feel. Maybe you felt more of a connection with Issacor because you're both warriors, or because he's the first friend you've lost since winning your freedom. Maybe now you're worried that things haven't changed as much for the better as you thought.”
He stood up straight, though he was still dwarfed by her. “And if that's the case; put your mind at ease. Things have changed a great deal. Issacor made a sacrifice that probably kept Rale out of Matasume's clutches and saved both Signateria and Growulff's lives. All death is regrettable, but his was a good and honorable one.”
His reassurance seemed lost on Taylin, but her expression turned stony. “I'm not sure if you're right about that or not. But you are right on one thing: I was hoping that being free meant no more lost friends. I just hope I can do something to keep from losing Motsey too.”
She tossed the wooden bar aside and bent to get the next one. “I... I'll be alright. Maybe I'll fly from here until we make camp to take my mind off things. Thank you.”
There was no truth in her assertion that she would be fine, Kaiel noted, but pushing her would do more harm than good, so he let it go and went to sit in the grass besides Rai. “And how are you doing?”
“No different from when we talked this morning.” said the halfling woman. “Afraid for Motsey. Missing Rale, Bromun and Growulff.” She deftly looped the end of the cord she was coiling so that it held itself together. “Worried about Taylin, now.” She added quietly.
Kaiel watched the woman in question doing violence to what was left of the sledge. “She's been through a lot. The kinds of things you don't come out the other side of unchanged. The best we can hope for is that she'll work through this before something comes up that requires her to be clearheaded.”
Rai stacked the cord with the others she'd done and took up the last one. “Same goes for all of us, doesn't it? Taylin and myself for obvious reasons, Brin because of Layaka, and Ru... I don't understand Ru. The point is, we're going to be depending on you to keep us sane through this.”
“Don't think that I'm detached from this.” he replied simply and drew a long breath.
“You're my husband's brother and Motsey's uncle. I know that you aren't detached. But you're also on your way to being a loreman and this is one of the things they do, isn't it? Keeping people from panicking or giving in to despair? Giving them hope?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Was it possible for him to do that in the face of his traveling companions' very personal recent tragedies? “I just hope I know where to start.”
Rai dropped the now coiled cord with the others. “Where's that flute of yours? Play us something happy while we wait for Brin.”
Kaiel gave her a small smile and took the instrument from his coat. Then he began to play.
***
Wind and rain battered the island, but inside the thick walls, made of equal parts stone and spellcraft, Nyadec Tolere was only aware of the storm when a boom of thunder managed to penetrate the silence of his office.
As steward of Nhan Raduul for almost twenty years and a skilled servant by profession, he was used to both storms and being insulated from them. Insulated from everything, really. Though the island, the keep and the fishing town that supported both were in disputed waters, the island was largely unknown thanks to unkind currents and winds conspiring to ensure that only someone looking for the place could find it.
And with no ruler to make petty demands or do routine-altering things like hold balls, Nhan Raduul under his stewardship had become so efficient that he was certain
he could navigate the entire keep blindfolded and still be able to conduct its business perfectly.
On most days, he ran out of things he needed to do by midday. This was one of those days, and it found him idling in the stuffed chair in his office, contemplating what to fill his time with for the day. The storm would prevent his usual trip into the village, and like many Kimean households, there wasn't a library because reading for enjoyment was thought of as a low pursuit. Literacy was for taking and reading notes regarding arcane studies.
He was still searching for inspiration when one of the young boys he employed to run messages throughout the extensive keep and out to the town burst into his office.
The lad bore the clear indicators of a family whose genetic legacy had been tampered with. His hair was stark white, shading to extremely light blue, his eyes red like an albino's, and overly large in his head. The overall effect made people look twice, but was nowhere near as drastic as some of the alterations he'd seen Kimean aristocracy inflict on a peasantry they viewed as one mass pool of fodder for their experiments.
Now he stood, dripping wet, his long, unbound hair sticking to his face, with a look of unbridled excitement on his face. “Mister Tolere! Mister Tolere! They sent me up from the village!”
Tolere grunted and tried to look like he'd been interrupted in the middle of something important. “What is it, boy? And it had better be a navy bearing down on us to justify entering my office without knocking.”
The boy hung his head, eyes on the ground. “I'm sorry, Master. Only they said to come with all haste, and I was already slowed up enough for the rain—didn't wanna slip and crack my head!”
A wave of Tolere's hand told the boy to get on with it. “You work for me, remember? No one else's orders come before mine and mine are to knock.”
“Begging your pardon, Master...” The boy stayed near to the door, ready to bolt. A lot of people new to the island behaved that way; like beaten dogs. They eventually came around, once they realized that the steward wasn't a cruel man, he just blustered because he could. “But ma says we work for the Lord of Nhan Raduul, Lord Crossius.”
Lighter Days, Darker Nights (Rune Breaker) Page 21
