by G. D. Penman
Call Your Steel
By
G. D. Penman
*Other books by this author:*
The Year of The Knife
Heart of Winter
Motherland
Echo In The Void
Apocrypha; the collected short works of G D Penman
An Unfamiliar Life; and other stories
Disruptive Fauna; and other stories
The Whipping Boy; and other stories
We Were Born In The Forest; and other stories
Call Your Steel
By
G. D. Penman
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “Unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously.
Call Your Steel
Copyright ©2017 by G. D. Penman
Cover by Trif Andrei - TwinArtDesign
Published by Azure Spider Publications LLC
1051 NE Pepperwood
Grants Pass, OR 97526
www.azurespiderpublications.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017942603
ISBN978-0-9974621-7-3
ISBN: 978-0-9974621-8-0 ebook
First Edition June 2017
Printed
n the United States of America
To Emma
She knows why
Contents
Chapter 1- The Dark Lands
Chapter 2: The Halls of Steel and Bone
Chapter 3: The Wanting of Things
Chapter 4- The Silver Scale
Chapter 5- The Girl in the Glass
Chapter 6 – The Titan in Steel
Chapter 7- The Bloody Circle
Chapter 8- The Mark
Chapter 9- The Hunt
Chapter 10- The Shortest Path
Chapter 11- The Burned Ones
Chapter 12- The Lessons of Youth
Chapter 13- The Rise
Chapter 14- The First Day
Chapter 15: The Tightening Noose
Chapter 16- The Turning Wheel
Chapter 17- The Divide
Chapter 18- The Wounded Heart
Chapter 19- The Longest Peace
Chapter 20- The Turning World
Chapter 21- The Story of the Stone
Chapter 22- The Needing of Things
Chapter 23- The War of the Monsters
Chapter 24- The Ballad
Chapter 1- The Dark Lands
In the sky above there was no sun. Stars illuminated the earth below with their dim and distant light. The moon was a faceless, lifeless, dark circle blocking out the starlight. On the surface of the world there were tiny pinpricks of light. Each bonfire representing a settlement or lonely travellers far from the safety of civilisation. There were four greater lights. Three massive clusters of flame, warm and welcoming. One blue-white light, dazzling and brighter than the rest combined.
Her stage was a pair of planks laid over two barrels by the village bonfire and her wage was whatever scraps the villagers tossed into her hat but even so Lucia felt that the show went well. A troubadour's life was far from untroubled but to see empty faces come to life balanced the cost. She started with a few simple songs. Tapping her foot and strumming along on her sickle-harp. There were a few women and children in the crowd and they were dancing by the time she began playing Four Kings. As the evening dragged on her hat had started to fill up with odd scraps of precious metal and just before the children's extended bed time could run out she decided to risk singing Great Dragons Dance. In the cities where the fear of the Eaters was more pronounced she would have denied even knowing the old piece but out here in the dark it had the children clapping along and the old mothers nodding along approvingly. She gave the children a conspiratorial wink as they were led off to their ash buried hovels and took a quick break to rest her voice.
When she got back on the stage, she broke out a trio of sad old songs of lost love, missing home and a tearjerker about a woodsman who wouldn't light a fire after cold-fall because he didn't want to hurt the forest he loved. There were tears in a lot of eyes after that one so she launched directly into a bawdy song about a farmer's wife who couldn't find a big enough mushroom for an unspecified purpose.
After that one she had to take another break as an old woman in the crowd had hooted herself into a harsh coughing fit. Most of the younger men had flushed with embarrassment under their layers of dirt, soot and ash but there was one standing as close to the stage as he could get. He stared at her with intensity.
Lucia supposed that she was pretty enough but didn't understand the fascination. Her eyes were a little too big for her face, her forehead a little too high, probably accentuated by the latest fashionable hairstyle picked up last time she was in the city. Long and curled on the top and shaved clean along the sides. She ignored him and went on through her usual catalogue before she played a gentle, lilting version of The Time for Sleep as a sort of downbeat finale. There was a scatter of applause from the exhausted people as they lumbered off towards their homes but she knew their real appreciation would be measured in how full her hat had become.
She stowed her sickle-harp in its case first. Then poured her hat's contents into a small sack without counting it. It would be another couple of cycles walking, at least, before she came upon anywhere to spend it. She left the planks on the barrels. Hopefully they would prompt some fond memories when the village folk returned to the drudgery of daily life out here.
She was about to seek out a sheltered spot to snooze until heat-rise when she realised that the ash miner from beside the stage was still waiting for her. She managed to keep her sigh internal as she gave him a polite smile. He walked towards her a little in that odd shuffle that the people out here had acquired to deal with the ground moving beneath them and spoke towards her knees, “I've always thought it would be a fine thing to have a wife that could sing.”
Lucia forced her jaw to unclench and asked, “Which lucky girl have you set your eyes on then?” already knowing the answer.
He grunted, “Well I thought maybe you and I could have something to drink and have a talk about that.”
She considered playing ignorant but thought it was better to nip this in the bud if she ever planned on passing by this way again. At least this one was being fairly polite about it. She shook her head and said, “I'm sorry lad, but I'm not the settling type.”
He glanced up at her and by the bonfire light she saw he wasn't that bashful, just not all that interested in her face. “Come on now, we’ve only just met. Let me get you a drink.”
She tried to work out what would happen if she called for help. It could be that the townsfolk would shame him into walking away from her or it could be some of his friends who would try to help their friend. She had given them a night of entertainment, but what would that be worth compared to a lifetime's worth of loyalty?
“I'm sorry, but I’ve met men like you before, you are only interested in one thing. The contents of my purse.”
He sniggered, “Well, you aren’t wrong. Those fools must have tossed a week’s work in silver scrap into your hat tonight and I ain’t fixing to have all of that walk away.”
By now she had her things together so she slung her pack and instrument case over her shoulder and got ready to run, “No.”
His brows drew together. “I tried to make this easy on you. Just remember that when the bleeding starts.”
By the time the first word was out of his mouth she had turned and sprinted away f
rom the village. He started shouting at her back but with the wind whipping by she couldn’t hear his curses. She was a city girl, born and raised, so the soft ground made her going slow. Not to mention the whole night of standing and hopping and stomping and dancing. If she could get a distance from the light of the bonfire he would lose her. With that in mind she circled around the village's major works. A sifting and mining project to the north of town where they extracted the globules of metal and rivulets of fat preserved by the layers of ash. Then she ran as fast as she could, dropping to all fours and scrabbling forward as the ash and masonry shards slipped away from beneath her and having to fling her pack back over her shoulder. Up ahead there was a particularly high dune of ash. If she could get to the far side she would be out of sight of the settlement.
A half a mile up from the ground, Valerius, Beloved of Negrath stirred from his sleep. He did not need to sleep, and had not needed to for these last hundred years but he found it gave him a peace of mind and clarity that contemplation and meditation did not match. He was clothed in an unfashionably long and loose fitting robe in the same pale cream colour as the ivory the city was carved from, it made him seem less like a man and more like a growth from his chambers' floor. The robe did not press too painfully on any of the bone-spurs starting to rise out of his skin. His long white hair flowed neatly to his waist and his alabaster skin just added to the artificial appearance. He walked out onto his balcony as a wave of heat swept over the city from the east and he looked out across his dominion.
On the horizon little fires burned on the sparse farms and mines surrounding the city and the star light granted at least shapes but the city itself was dark, and would remain dark until he made it otherwise. He considered the lives of the people in the city, quivering in this endless night without him. He set his hands on the two copper rods rising up from the polished ivory of his balcony and he called the storm. Galvanic force flowed through him and out in an ever widening circle, sparking to life the cold blue lanterns throughout his city. The lanterns whined and crackled and gradually accumulated enough power to last until cold-fall and he released his grip on the copper. The city was a blazing white beacon in the dark plains surrounding it. The centre of the world. All was as it should be.
Kaius released his armour and the chill air swept over the bare skin of his arms and head. He drew it deeply into his lungs. His robes were purple, the colour of his city, but they were embroidered at their edges in silver filigree to reflect his rank. Not that colour could be seen so far from the city's lights. They were curious clothes. Form fitting around his torso, absent from his arms and loose around his legs. On a flat plane of stone overlooking the dales he went through the Thousand Forms of Bone. First in order, then switching between them, seemingly at random with a fluidity born of endless practice. From block to strike to grapple and kick. After the fourth repetition of every Form he turned to the east and closed his eyes.
A thin layer of cold sweat beaded on his exposed skin. The wave of heat rolled over the horizon and he was thankful for the clear sky. He saw the dark and ominous shadow of the moon blocking out stars close to the horizon. The flash of warmth loosened his muscles and he enjoyed the ticklish pleasure of his sweat drying. He opened his eyes to the stars above him with a smile on his face, then with a twinge of reluctance he called steel and let the cold metal envelop him again, liquid at first then setting solid. Hiding all of the world from his sight except what was visible through the slit of his visor.
Once it was set he felt neither warmth or cold within his armour, just its comforting weight. He muttered his morning prayers to Negrath and turned to look out across the rolling ash dunes of his duty. The breeze flapped the fabric of his robes around his armoured legs. He drew a deep breath and caught the scent of fear. His pupils narrowed to slits as his senses continued to heighten. He made out moving shapes across to the north-west, nearing the border of the Glasslands.
He called speed and ran across the shifting and tumbling ground towards the source of the scent. Picking out the distinct aromas of stale sweat and boiled leather beneath the omnipresent smell of burnt wood and rancid fat.
A distant light appeared behind Lucia even as heat-rise hit her and she heard a little shout of triumph. Far closer than she would have hoped. She was near the top of the dune and the city coming to life was enough to silhouette her against the white-grey top layer of ash. Over the crumbling summit she tripped and stumbled. She caught her foot on a more solid block of stone and dislodged it to slide down the far side, down the mound and out over the shimmering flat plain of glass up ahead. It slid to a halt after it had left its thick trail of ash behind it.
Looking out onto the Glasslands she hesitated for a moment to take in the alien terrain and wipe the caked ash from her eyelashes. It was for a moment too long. Rough hands grabbed onto the straps of her instrument case and dragged her backwards. She twisted and turned and lost both her instruments and balance for the trouble.
She fell heavily onto her backside then started to skid down the far steeper other slope of the dune, gaining speed until she reached the glass' smooth surface. She slid out across it until she reached the fallen stone. At the top of the hill she saw the shape of a man against the starlit sky. He gaped down at her in surprise. Then she heard a high pitched creak, first from behind her, then from beneath her. It stopped abruptly with a loud crack.
Both the rock and the girl fell as the glass beneath them shattered. She plummeted into the dark. Her hands flailed for purchase at the thick shards of sooty black glass that fell around her. She jerked her head to the side to duck the slab of stone spinning as it fell. She hit a toppled stone pillar after what seemed like an eternity and the air drove out of from her lungs even as the pain made her shriek.
She tumbled off the pillar, falling again into endless darkness, clipping off of sedimentary layers of debris, destroyed buildings and thick crystalline protrusions of glass from the surface above. She lost consciousness before she struck the bottom.
Before he reached the base of the ash mound Kaius released speed and dropped into a crouch to maintain balance as momentum carried him up the slope. Calling speed always made him feel giddy. He released steel for an instant and before his armour withdrew he called it again in a slightly altered form. A curved sword grew out from the side of his arm and shoulder, settling into a reversed grip when it extended and detached fully. The rest of his armour settled back into place, thinner by a minuscule amount.
He halted behind the ash farmer and took in the scene. There was a crack stretching out onto the glass plain ahead that the dune was draining into with a loud hiss. The man before him stared at the damage he had obviously done with a slack-jawed expression. Kaius went weeks at a time without the need to speak so when he did it was rough and echoed back at him within the armour, “Where did you come by that, child?”
The man physically jumped away from the voice behind him. Trying to twist in the air and ending up in a crumpled mess on the ground, starting another slow drift towards the hole in the glass. Kaius took a step forward and put his foot on the strap of the city stitched instrument case. Stopping any further movement. Then he spoke again, “The bag is not yours, where did you come by it, boy?”
Guilt was written all over the man's face, clear to see in the city's distant light to Kaius improved vision. He shook his head as what was obviously a thief stuttered out the beginnings of a lie then plunged his sword into the liar's chest. It was not one of the Forms of Steel, just a brutal thrust.
Kaius released steel after the gurgling and bubbling had stopped, then crouched to examine the stolen bag, he tugged the straps open and looked at the harp and bundled coins inside. While his education had neglected music as a subject he knew that a well crafted instrument was worth a substantial sum, likely enough to kill for if you were a desperate man living out in the dark. Leaving it here for the thief's family to profit from was out of the question so he considered taking it with him, perhaps
returning it to some bruised travelling musician.
He snorted at his own brief naivety. There would be a shallow grave somewhere out in the desert of ash with the harp's owner in it. He slid down the dune to the edge of the glass and peered into the hole. It went down too far for him to make anything out except the vague forms of a few criss-crossing pillars of stone.
He cocked his head to the side and listened but the roar of falling ash and stone shards over the edge deafened him. He shrugged and tossed the bag down. As he stood he caught a flash of metal in the distance, out on the glass, moving with called speed. Without a backward glance he called his own steel and speed and darted off after it.
The Glasslands were further still from the city, around the horizon's curve. So Kaius had to rely on the starlight to track his prey. The shimmer of the glass through the soot made it harder to make out the glint of metal but there was no other motion out here. The few settlements on the glass were far further out where the surface glass was broken up enough to be harvested and wildlife couldn't survive here without sustenance. The moving speck of silver stopped suddenly then started to grow bigger.
Kaius had been sighted, so he called the same sword as before and flipped it into an upright grip, adopting high guard, the first Form of Steel. He waited as the speck of silver grew large enough to show a human shape. He breathed deeply to calm himself. She was nearly upon him when he saw that she wore Negrath's colours too. He did not relax his guard of course. It would be a simple matter for another Eater's Chosen to lay hands on a purple dye. She skidded to a halt, half a head shorter than him and narrower across the shoulders but otherwise her appearance was identical. She had a pair of short straight swords in her hands, the curved one that was Kaius' preference had been out of fashion among serious students of the Forms of Steel for a decade or more. It made his attacks unfamiliar to the younger generation, which had proved helpful on occasion. She released steel while still moving with the juddering motions of someone calling speed and when he saw her face he released steel too.
