The Blasted Lands

by James A. Moore

  He reached down and grabbed the helmet resting by his foot. The great skull-shaped helm slipped over his head and fit as perfectly as it ever had. The teeth of his foes moved around his neck and along the edges of his vision. The teeth were reminders to him, yes, but mostly they were simple adornment. The enemies of his people were odd indeed and many of them looked upon death as something to fear. He did not share in that sentiment. Death merely was. It held no power over the gods and therefore held no power over the faithful.

  Stastha came up from behind him, the horns of her helmet pointing toward the ground as she stepped closer.

  “We are ready when you call us, Tusk.”

  He nodded his head without answering. Tusk did not like to speak at times like this. He preferred the silence. Stastha knew that and slapped his shoulder with her hand as she turned to walk away.

  “Sound the horns, Stastha. Call them all home. It is time.” He did not have to turn his head to know that she was smiling. Stastha was a warrior, one of the best he knew, and like him she thrived on the smell of blood and the sound of battle.

  Stastha raised her horn to her lips and blew a long harsh note that echoed down the side of Durhallem and carried across the valley before coming back as a whisper. Long before that soft sound returned, the other horns called, demanding that the followers of Durhallem join together in the time of war. The Wounder called to his children and they obeyed.

  It did Tuskandru proud. “Brodem! Come to me!” Tusk’s voice called out and was answered a moment later by the content rumble of his mount. The great beast rose from the rocks where he had been staring into Durhallem’s blazing heart and pounced down to where Tusk waited. Tusk climbed aboard Brodem’s broad back and checked that his weapons were in place. The beast roared and he roared as well, his blood rising in preparation.

  The sun would soon set and before that happened the world would change. He intended to make the Wounder proud.

  ***

  Along the Mounds the air was surprisingly calm. The clouds were a thin scrawl above, and the sun almost managed to show through. Tega looked at her target and sighed. There would be no better time.

  Not far away the fires still burned. She tried not to think about them or about the smell of roasting meat. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation of that odor but the notion of eating that particular flesh repulsed her. Maun had not been a friend, but he had been a companion, and both he and his partner in the flames, Darus Leeds, deserved better than a funeral pyre in the Blasted Lands.

  Still, they were dead and she had been given a mission by Desh Krohan. It was time to fulfill her orders.

  Nolan March let out a small cheer and Vonders Orly joined him. The fourth arrow that Tolpen Hart fired into the wall of the Mound stuck true and the rope dangling from it swayed enticingly in the breeze.

  Now, finally, was the time for her to prove her worth.

  Tega concentrated on the arrow and the rope and focused her will. This was a subtle thing, not a harsh assault, and her faith in her abilities was higher. Still, it would not do to allow herself to lose control and so she settled herself on the ground and cleared her mind of distractions.

  Her hand touched the rope, felt its coarse texture and the thickness of it. Then she let her senses follow the rope to the anchoring arrow and to the stone of the surface where it stuck precariously.

  A gentle touch, a strong will and she forced the change to occur.

  The rope sang beneath her touch and the arrow’s head pulsed where it broke the surface of the stone. All three men with her let out small noises as the fibers surged and changed and the arrow changed with it.

  “Done. It is done.” She looked at the finished result of her spell and smiled.

  Nolan was the first to touch the silk. It was thick and would hold them with ease.

  “Where is the arrow?”

  “It’s still there. It has just become something stronger than it was. It will hold us. Have no doubt of that.” She tried not to sound smug. It wasn’t easy.

  Tolpen grabbed the silk chord and pulled, throwing his weight into the maneuver, as well he should. After too much time spent searching and hoping for a better entrance into the Mounds the had finally accepted that the hole high in the side of one malformed column was their best bet.

  They had to climb to use it. The first two arrows Vonders managed to use had broken against the stone. The third had held but only until he pulled with his body weight. After that Tega said she would try to help with the anchoring of their only hope of reaching the proper entrance and now, finally she had succeeded.

  Vonders pulled several times, making certain for himself, and then he started climbing the side of the column. His grip on the heavy silk was solid, but he moved it around his waist for extra support as he climbed, careful to place his feet firmly with each step he took on the slippery surface.

  The rest of them waited below until he reached the hole in the side of their target. It had seemed a small area when viewed without perspective, but the higher Vonders scaled, the more readily Tega realized the opening was anything but. She couldn’t quite manage to park the wagon inside of that opening, but it was a close thing.

  “This is madness.” Tolpen spat and watched the other man climbing. “What if he falls?”

  “Then we know this was a bad idea.” Nolan shrugged and stepped closer to the silk cord. “We have been told to handle this. We must.” Vonders slipped his leg over the lip of the wound in the side of their target and settled his eight, panting as he recovered from the climb.

  “It’s a tricky climb!” Vonders’ voice called down to them and he settled himself as best he could within the spot.

  “Can you see anything in there?” Tega wanted to know what they were in for if it was possible.

  He nodded. “It’s hollow. Hard to say how far it goes down. I can’t very well climb it until the rest of you are up here.”

  “Or you could take another rope, tie it in place, and then climb down.” Nolan spoke as he started up the cord himself. He had a bundle or rope around his waist. Vonders did not.

  Nolan made the climb look easy until a little over half the distance to the top. That was when he slipped and nearly fell to his death. He caught himself and bounced along the side of the tower a couple of times, cursing and spinning before he managed to regain his stance and his composure.

  When he finally settled himself, one leg on either side of the entrance into whatever lay inside, he carefully unwound the rope from around his waist and looked for something to anchor it with. Finally he tied it to the rope they’d scaled to reach the spot.

  Tolpen looked at Tega for a moment and cleared his throat. “Do you know how to climb, milady?”

  Truthfully, she did not. Because she had been trained to know that pride is often a waste of breath she confessed her ignorance.

  “Would it be best if you waited here?” The man meant no insult. Her was simply trying to figure out what to do about the matter.

  “Can you teach me to climb?”

  “No more than I can teach you to properly hunt. That is to say it would take more time than we have. Perhaps after I’ve scaled the side we can pull you up with the rope.” He sounded doubtful. It wasn’t her weight and she knew that. It was that there was little enough for them to hold on to as it was and carrying a person’s weight would make their perch even more dangerous.

  Vonders said something from above and Nolan cursed softly.

  “What is it?” They had a much higher vantage point. Whatever it was they saw, Tega saw nothing when she looked in the same direction.

  “Don’t know, but it looks like foot soldiers. A very large number of them. Hundreds at the least.”

  Tega felt her heart drop. Secrecy was the key to what they were doing. As far as they knew the Sa’ba Taalor could not come to the Mounds, were forbidden from entering the area, but that was only what they had been told and the truth of the matter simply had not been tested.

 
“Where are they? Are they coming closer?”

  “No.” Nolan looked down at her. His face from this range was unreadable not that he was normally very expressive.

  “Well? Where are they going?” Tolpen’s voice was edged with frustration.

  “They head for the Temmis Pass, near as I can figure.”

  “So they are Sa’ba Taalor.” Tega shook her head. Even if they got the information they needed, getting it back to Desh Krohan was looking to be more and more of a problem. She knew that people could walk the Blasted Lands. At least she thought they could. She knew that Andover Lashk had left into the area with a few of the Sa’ba Taalor, but they had been prepared with mounts and supplies.

  “I can’t say how many. I think it could be hundreds, as I said, but it’s impossible to tell. There’s too much of this damned filth between us.” He gestured to indicate the air. Though the day was calmer and they could almost see the sun in the sky it was still overcast and the air still tasted foul.

  “We can’t concern ourselves with them.”

  Tolpen looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted wings on the sides of her head. “What?”

  “They are there. We are here. This is where we have to be. We must do as Desh Krohan has commanded. We have to know what is here.” As she spoke she glared at the hunter. He was as polite as he felt he had to be, but she also knew that of the three men still with her he was the one who thought the least of her. His expression said he felt she was pampered. His eyes tended to look anywhere but into her eyes when he spoke.

  Tolpen’s eyes looked at hers now, as if to prove her wrong. “Then we best get to it.”

  Without another word he grabbed the silken cord and started hauling his body upward, his arms bulging with corded muscle and his legs kicking furiously against the side of the Mound. He scaled at almost twice the speed of the other two, the better to get away from her it seemed.

  She watched his movements and nodded to herself.

  He did not understand how sorcery worked or what was required. He did not begin to know how much time was afforded to studying the ways of the world before one considered trying to change it. First came examination, then comprehension, and then experimentation; then and only then did a person hope to begin the proper focus required.

  Tega had never climbed a rope in her life. She grabbed the cord and slipped it loosely around her waist as she had seen Vonders do. Her arms moved through the cord and she pulled herself up and off the ground. A moment later her legs found the side of the Mound’s wall and she balanced herself. One arm pulled and then the other. She slid upward. Her left leg pushed and she stepped up the side of the Mound. Her right foot followed. Her arms shifted and pulled and her body already ached, but she climbed, one step at a time, and forced herself upward, looking at the men above her and determined not to let them think her foolish or weak.

  Her arms shook. Her legs shook. The effort was immense. She made herself breathe, and pulled and stepped and pulled and stepped, and when her right foot slipped she shifted her weight quickly to compensate and caught herself before she could spin as Nolan had before.

  Above her Nolan’s eyes studied her and he nodded silent encouragement. Vonders did not look at her. His teeth worried at his lower lip as he carefully set about tying the other rope in place. Tolpen watched her, but his expression was impossible to read.

  He did not matter. There was only the climbing. Until she reached the lip of the opening and Nolan’s hand was gripping her wrist and her elbow as he steadied her and she swung one leg over the side of the entrance and straddled the cold stone.

  The wall they rested on was thick, at least as thick as her waist, and unyielding.

  She looked out toward the horizon as her pulse calmed down and her breathing returned to normal. Her body shook not only with exertion but also with a hint of fear. She had never climbed so high in her life and the notion of falling had never quite seemed so real.

  Out in the distance there were shapes moving, and yes, they looked like troops on the march. She had certainly seen enough soldiers marching in her time at the palace.

  It was more than a few hundred if she had to guess, but from this range it was hard to say. They were just small shapes. For all she could truly see there might well have been a dust storm running along the side of the distant cliffs.

  No. Dust storms seldom stayed consistent in their height.

  “Do you see them?” Vonders looked up from his business and yanked hard on the rope he’d been tying in place. The rope stayed where it was and so did he. That was as good as sign as she could expect.

  “Oh, yes. I see them. Now we have even more reason to go about this. If those are the soldiers of the Sa’ba Taalor it is possible that war comes even sooner than we feared.”

  “Are we not already at war?” Nolan frowned and continued to look at the distant column.

  His father, of course, had already died. She’d let herself forget that fact.

  “We are engaged. I do not know if they call this a skirmish or a war yet, but I think wars are bigger.”

  She nodded to Vonders. “Are you ready?”

  “No. But I’m going anyway.” Without another word he started down the inside of the cavernous darkness. They had no light, no torches, nothing of the sort.

  “Wait. We need light.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Tolpen spoke softly and pointed down into the depths of the Mound. Tega looked and frowned.

  It was faint, but there was something down there. She could see Vonders though he was now well below the light from the entrance. And below him, below the level of the ground even, she could see luminescence. It was a cold light, and it set off a winter storm within her heart and her stomach alike.

  Vonders kept sliding down the rope, carefully descending. Below the ground now, and deeper still. From time to time he looked up, but mostly he panted and made his slow drop into the place where the gray-skinned Sa’ba Taalor were forbidden to journey.

  ***

  Drask watched them scale the side of the tower and then slip inside. It took them a very long time to manage it.

  When they were gone he finally let himself move, sliding one leg and then the other from where they had been resting and stretching the muscles that had spent far too long in the same position. His practice of moving and keeping his circulation steady had been halted when there was a chance that they would notice him. Patience was one of the hardest things to learn for him. It had always gone against his nature. He was born and raised to fight and to kill and those were situations that required speed and skill and strength of body and mind.

  Patience required only patience.

  It was not his strongest characteristic.

  When they had finally dropped completely from sight Drask climbed down from where he had been waiting and stretched, rewarding his body’s patience with relief from the threatened cramps.

  And then he squatted low to the ground, stared toward the Seven Forges and prayed silently to Ydramil. He had been told to come here. He had not yet been told why.

  The world around him was nearly silent. There was the wind, and the sound of grit and dust skittering along the ground, and there was the slow and steady sound of his breathing.

  And then there was the voice of Great Ydramil speaking to him, into his very heart.

  Drask looked around at the Mounds, the forbidden territory that always waited. His feet touched the forbidden. He breathed in the air of the same.

  And now he would once more break the rules he had been taught for as long as he had been alive.

  He nodded and waved one hand and Brackka came closer. The mount had never been far away. His place was where Drask could call on him and he knew that well enough.

  “I go after them.” Brackka panted and pushed his face closer to Drask’s. His hands moved behind Brackka’s ears and scratched and the great face pushed against him. “Wait here. I will be back as soon as I can. Or I will not, as Ydramil decide
s.” When he let go of his mount his hands reached out and took a small selection of weapons. His long bow stayed where it was. The shorter one he took with him along with a quiver. One sword. Four axes and an assortment of knives. Anything else would have to wait with Brackka for when he came back.

  The mount let out a grunt and moved away, circling the area slowly. He would wait and he would hunt when he needed food. That was the price he paid for his past sins. He would be faithful, because that was all that was left to him.

  Drask would be faithful, too. He moved to where the people from Fellein had left a gift for him, a rope that dangled down and made his climb easier than he’d expected.

  From the top of the climb he could see the columns moving toward the Temmis Pass.

  There were so many more than he had expected to see.

  Drask waited only a moment before he started down the rope that was, once again, foolishly left to allow him an easy descent.

  In his heart there was no fear. He went where his god commanded. There was nothing for him to be afraid of.

  ***

  The sun set.

  King Tuskandru, Chosen of the Forge of Durhallem and King in Obsidian called to his people and began their sacred journey.

  ***

  The sun rose in the east and as the first light of the day made itself known, Merros Dulver stepped from the tent where he’d slept, dressed in his uniform and ready to deal with whatever came his way.

  Well, as ready as he could manage when he felt like he was going to his death.

  A quick gesture and the troops were called to order. He would inspect them soon, but first he wanted to see if there were any signs that the Sa’ba Taalor were ready to discuss grave matters.

  The Sa’ba Taalor wanted to parley, and he hoped and prayed that was a good thing, but he was not one hundred percent sure. He wanted all to go well. He wanted peace between their people.

  He wanted to cut the throat of whichever bastard king had ordered Swech to kill the Emperor. He wanted to see justice for Wollis March.