by Scott Kaelen
“Crossing up ahead!” Oriken announced.
She peered past him at the strip of marshland that blocked the pass, stretching from the wetlands all the way to the ocean. A crude path of three lines of stripped trees angled across the obstacle, leading to dry land beyond. Off to the north-west, a range of steep hills tapered into the distance, obscuring the view to the coastline. Oriken reached the walkway of half-sunken trees first stepped onto it. Jalis ushered Demelza to go next. She waited for Oriken to reach the halfway point, then sprang onto the middle log and rose to her tiptoes. Taking small but quick steps, she crossed along the first tree, then the second, keeping the wobbling Oriken at the edge of her vision as she gained on him. He reached the end of the last log and strode onto dry ground, and a moment later Demelza hopped off behind him, pouncing to the side as he swung around to look at her. She clutched her satchel and scowled back at him, and he shook his head. Jalis jogged along the walkway and leaped nimbly to land between them.
“She needs to get used to me,” Oriken snapped. “And quickly.”
“She will. Give her time.”
“Listen, I let you bring her along, and, frankly, I’m indifferent as to whether she’s here or not. I’ve done nothing to make her uncomfortable. If anything, it’s the other way around.” He turned to Demelza. “I’m not an orc, damn it. Do you hear me? Sure, I ain’t looking my best right now, but I’m no monster. Whatever reason you’ve got for not trusting me is in your head, and I don’t plan on spending the rest of our journey catching you giving me the evil eye. From now on, you’ll walk at my side, and we’ll talk, until you stop thinking I’m a demon who’s trying to fatten you up till you’re plump enough to eat.”
“Orik—”
“No. It’s gonna happen. Me and Demelza – Dee – are going to bond, because I’ve had it up to here with wearing the mantle of the bad man.”
Demelza took a step closer to Jalis. “Here, mister, I ain’t bondin’ wi’ you. You said you wouldn’t do that. You promised.”
“What?” He sighed and shook his head. “I mean bonding as in getting to know each other. Verbally. With tongues— Ah, for the love of the rutting gods, you know what I mean.”
She eyed him shrewdly. “Maybe.”
“Right then.”
Demelza turned to her friend for support, but Jalis only raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
“Come on.” Oriken reached for her. She flinched as his hand curled around her shoulder, but his touch was gentle and she let it happen. “Let’s you and I walk together.”
He guided her down the dirt trail, and once they were walking side by side he removed his hand from her shoulder. Demelza glanced back at Jalis; she was following a dozen steps behind, but her attention was elsewhere.
“Right then,” Oriken said as they strolled along. “First things first, little lady. You’ve probably got your reasons for being wary of me. I get that. And I’ve got my reasons for…” He puffed his cheeks and blew out. “Me and Jalis have just lost a friend. A close friend. A brother. But here’s the thing: We’re freeblades, and we have a code of conduct. Sure, we don’t always achieve it, but it’s there to separate the wheat from the chaff – to ensure that any who join the guild have at least a trace of decency in their bones. Do you follow?”
She frowned. “Dunno. I think so.”
Oriken’s fingers fluttered at his head, then he thrust his thumb behind his belt and muttered, “Damn it, I need a hat.” He cleared his throat and cast her a sidelong glance. “Secondly and more importantly, I don’t hate you for alerting your village to our presence. I tried to hold it against you, but I can’t. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? I was still living in my village when I was your age, not quite ready to hit the road with… with Dagra… and go discover what the world was like beyond the Kadelia Downs – that’s the region where I grew up, a bit like Scapa Fell, only mountainous and more richly abundant, with lots of agriculture, fishing…” He stifled a sigh. “What I’m trying to say is, if our village leaders had tried to force something out of me that I knew about some random strangers I owed no allegiance to, I might have whistled on them just like you did. So let’s move past that and concentrate on now. What do you say?”
“Uhuh.” Demelza tucked her thumbs beneath her tunic and hitched them into the top of her leggings. “I reckon we can do that.”
Oriken squinted ahead and flashed a lopsided smile. “The boat’s left the harbour and we’re tacking into the wind.”
“Huh?”
Jalis’s warm laugh drifted along the trail. In unison, Demelza and Oriken turned to look at her. “You know,” Jalis said, “the two of you are not nearly as dissimilar as you might think.”
“What’s she sayin’?” Demelza asked.
Oriken shrugged. “Damned if I know.”
As they turned to continue, a fat droplet of rain landed in Demelza’s hair. She glanced up at bulging clouds that had drifted in from across the wetlands, and a second droplet splashed onto her forehead. A moment later, the clouds burst open. Jalis cast her pack to the ground and bent to unfasten it, while Demelza hastily rummaged into her satchel for her cloak.
As she withdrew the threadbare garment, Oriken eyed it and shook his head. “That’ll do you no good,” he said, spitting rain through the rivulets that ran over his lips. He slung his pack from his back and pulled out a sturdy cloak. “This ain’t mine,” he told her as he wrapped it around her shoulders. “Never needed one, not with my hat and jacket.” He secured the clasp at her breast and pulled the leather hood onto her head. “Good. It fits you.”
Demelza managed a smile of gratitude, and in that moment she saw a sadness in Oriken’s eyes – even the eye that was swollen and bruised – and she knew he was a good man.
He looked at Jalis, then nodded towards the hills. “Caer Valekha’s in that vale. What say we get some shelter till the rain passes?”
With her own cloak donned, Jalis nodded from within her hood.
“Everyone up for a run?” Oriken glanced at Demelza with a small smile.
“I can run,” she said.
“Then let’s do it.”
She and Oriken set off together. Rain lashed into her eyes, but she kept his speed. Jalis quickly caught them up and matched pace at Demelza’s side. They sprinted across the expanse, drawing ever nearer to the hills. The edge of a large stone construction came into view. Within moments, the whole hulking fortress gradually loomed before her. The square behemoth sprawled at the rear of a pass between two steep rises, its stones as ancient and pitted as the walls of the Forbidden Place. Demelza remembered the rotten ghouls inside that terrible city, and her scalp tingled as she imagined the large entranceway ahead to be hiding more dead things within its shadows.
Oriken and Jalis ran ahead as Demelza slowed to scan her surroundings. She noted with concern the expansive patch of grassless dirt before the fortress, and, as she drew nearer, her heart rose to her throat as she spotted a white bone nestled within rubble and weeds at the base of the imposing building.
Sunlight poked through the edge of the rainclouds and sent a short wedge of brightness into the entranceway, enough to reveal black arches deeper inside. Demelza paused at threshold, then, hesitantly, stepped into the fortress. For a moment the only sound was the rain drumming against the dirt outside, and its faint echo hissing within the large, empty room. “I don’t like it here,” she said.
Jalis pulled her hood down and shook the rain from her cloak. “It’s not the most inviting of places, but we won’t be here long.”
“It don’t feel right. Feels like death. Can’t you tell?”
Jalis glanced at the scattered debris strewn about the floor. “It’s just your imagination. I saw no footprints outside and I see none in here. There are no restless corpses in Caer Valekha. That ordeal is behind us now.”
“It’s true.” Oriken cast his packs into the corner and ran his hands through his soaking wet hair. “Even I can see this place is deserted, and that�
�s saying something.”
Demelza wasn’t convinced. “Maybe it is. Maybe not. What about the bone outside?”
He looked at her blankly. “I didn’t see any bones.”
Jalis laughed. “Dee, you might have a keener sense of your surroundings than our journeyman freeblade here.”
“Bah.” Oriken gave a casual swipe of his hand and strode to slouch against the wall. “Hey, Demelza. Jalis reckons you’re a ‘blade in the making. You like the sound of that?”
“No.”
“Can’t blame you there.”
She cast a moody stare through a darkened archway along the wall from Oriken. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she realised she was looking at a cluster of grey shapes upon the floor, at the far side of the small room. Catching her breath, she turned to Jalis. “Something’s in there. I ain’t imaginin’ it.”
Oriken pushed himself from the wall and approached the arch. He dipped beneath it and entered the gloom. Jalis followed, and Demelza shuffled along close behind her.
“We should just go,” she whispered. “Please. I don’t—”
“Ah, there,” Oriken said. “Yeah, he’s going nowhere. Not a scrap of flesh left on him.”
Demelza peeked from behind Jalis to see Oriken crouched under a second arch that led into a deeper darkness. At his feet were the objects she’d spotted – a scattering of spindly bones in the shape of a human hand. “I said death were here, didn’t I?” she whispered, clutching Jalis’s arm.
“Yes,” Jalis said softly. “But this one’s not only been dead for decades, it’s stayed that way. Nothing but bones here, Dee. Bones and a few spider webs.”
“Gah!” Oriken lurched upright and cracked his head on the underside of the archway. “Damn it!”
Jalis laughed. “You never learn.” She nudged past him and leaned into the shadows. Demelza stayed behind, scowling at the rest of the skeleton. The jawbone lay separate from the upper portion of the skull, which sat upright as if it had tried to bite into the stone and lost its teeth in the process. The ribs were empty of all but a few straggly webs, and the base of the spine hung over the edge of a square hole in the floor.
“Looks to be a latrine chamber,” Oriken said, rubbing the top of his head. “The poor fellow must have snuffed it while taking a shit.”
Jalis suppressed a sigh. “Orik, really? You think he stepped waist-deep into a sked-hole and lie down to die? It’s not a toilet, it’s an oubliette. You can see where the trapdoor used to be. Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“When this stronghold was abandoned, they must have left the prisoners down there to rot.”
Demelza gasped.
“Sorry. Bad choice of words. This is where the worst of criminals are cast. Other than being tossed scraps of food, they’re left to fend for themselves. Conditions in such a place must be appalling.”
“If it’s for bandit scum, then they probably deserve it,” Oriken said.
“Perhaps, but not all. There are always the wrongly convicted, and the ones used as scapegoats for the rich and powerful. But it seems the prisoners here didn’t just curl up and die when everyone left, unless someone removed the hatch from this side. If not, reaching it from within would have taken—”
Demelza released her hold on Jalis and crossed her arms in annoyance.
“Ah.” Jalis nodded. “You’re right. Let’s leave it as a mystery.”
“Put it on the list,” Oriken murmured as he strode through to the entrance room. “May as well use this as a food stop,” he called over his shoulder.
As they followed him into the brighter room, Jalis said, “We have nothing to burn.”
“Dee can do her fire trick.”
Demelza shook her head. “No.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I can make a fire to roast a rabbit or boil a fish, but I ain’t no witchy cook. You wanna try eatin’ summat I heated from the inside, go ahead.”
“Hmph.” Oriken’s eyes misted over and he turned away. “I’ll find us some firewood,” he said as he strode towards the rear arches. “Must be some old furniture around here someplace.”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
ENCOUNTER AT CAER VALEKHA
“Looks like we’re staying the night,” Jalis said despondently. She stared out at the sheet of rain beyond the wide entranceway, where a hail of droplets drummed into a large puddle that had formed a short distance from the open doors. Despite the downpour, the air was muggy, and she pinched the thin material of her chemise to pull it from her sticky skin. “I had hoped to have cleared the marsh before nightfall, and be well on our way to leaving this desolate region forever.”
Beside her, Demelza sat cross-legged with her back against the front of a solid stone bench that ran the length of the wall between two rear archways. “What’s it like?” she asked. “Where you live, I mean.”
“Alder’s Folly?” Jalis snorted softly. “It’s serviceable. Truth be told, I miss the city life a little, but I think you might not like that. You’ve been accustomed to a village with a population of, what, three hundred strong? The Folly is a small town, and I’d guess it covers more area than Minnow’s Beck. There are maybe a thousand people between residents and visitors, but you won’t even glimpse half of those on most days. I think you’ll be fine there until we head to Brancosi Bay.”
“Is that a city? Like the Keeler?”
Jalis smiled. “Yes, it’s a city, but nothing like Lachyla. The streets are bustling with people, especially on market day. Many parts of Brancosi are never quiet, even throughout the night, but there are tranquil places to be found. I like the ambience of the harbour; it reminds me of, well, let’s just say it takes me back to a time before I was a freeblade.”
“How old are you?”
Jalis cast her a sidelong glance, then grinned as she caught the girl’s innocent gaze. “I will be 34 in the first week of Genopreta. I was a harvest baby – a blessing in a year of plentiful crop.”
“Where’s your mam?”
“My parents live a long way from here,” she sighed, “back in my homeland of Sardaya. My father and I didn’t get along so well, but that’s by the by. From my childhood home you can see the towering peaks of Syen’s Forge – a dead volcano and one of the largest mountains in the whole of the Vorinsian Arkh. Across its foothills, Gaspreau Citadel sprawls like a thick belt of black stone. It is a sight to behold. There are many places of wonder across Sosarra.”
“What’s a Sara?”
“So-sar-ra. It’s the name of the continent we live upon. A stretch of the Broken Sea known as the Burning Channel divides Himaera from the rest of Sosarra.”
Demelza’s mouth hung agape. “But… you can’t break a sea. And water don’t burn. I tried it. It just boils.”
“Ah, Dee, there is so much to tell you about the world, but I think that is enough for now. One thing at a time.”
Demelza nodded. “I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep a while.”
“Do you want to go into another room?”
“No. Can I stay here? Near you?”
Jalis reached out and stroked Demelza’s hair. “Of course you can.”
Demelza pulled a blanket over and curled up on top of it, and Jalis waited for the girl’s breathing to slow into a steady rhythm of sleep. Rising quietly to her feet, she stepped through one of the rear arches and listened to the faint sounds of Oriken breaking apart something he’d found for firewood. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
A few more days and we’re home. But what is home? What will I do now?
Leaning within the archway, she turned her head to gaze across the large room and out into the rain, seeing the long pass between the hills but recalling another place from long ago. The sounds of men and women busying themselves with rigging and cargo echoed from her memory, along with the face of a certain ship’s captain.
Where are you now, Celique? With a shake of her head, she laughed quietly to herself. The thi
ngs we reflect upon in these rare moments. I haven’t spared you a thought in years. You became another lost friend. She smiled sadly as she looked out at the grey, wet landscape.
“What the…” Something far along the wide vale caught her eye. Quickly she tiptoed through the debris to stand beside the entrance and peer out. “There,” she whispered to herself. Somebody was on the heath. Three, she counted. One closer, two further behind. No. No… Stars above, is that… Maros!
She cast a quick glance at Demelza, but the girl was still sleeping soundly. Without bothering to don her cloak, she stepped out into the downpour and angled around the large puddle, then broke into a run along the pass.
Maros stopped in his tracks. He peered ahead at the distant, blurry figure. “Damn my eyes,” he growled. “Can’t see through this rain. Tell me that’s not a lyakyn.”
“It’s no lyakyn, boss.” Henwyn grinned from beneath his hood. “It’s Jalis.”
“Praise the rutting gods!” Maros stabbed a crutch triumphantly into the mud. “You found ‘em! You damn well found ‘em, Hen.”
“In all fairness, you can’t miss the tracks around here, nor that hulking brute of stone up yonder.”
“Does this mean we can turn back now?” Wymar blew the rain from his lips. “I swear I’ve never been so wet.”
Henwyn barked a laugh. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
The mill owner’s retort was lost in the rain and the squelching mud as Maros swung onwards, his boots slipping but the crutches finding purchase with each loping step. Pain pulsed along his bad leg, worsened by the humidity, but he pushed onwards as Jalis rapidly closed the distance between them.
“Well there’s a sight for sore eyes!” he bellowed, quirking a brow at the drenched chemise that clung to her torso.
She slowed to a walk and glanced down at herself, then flashed him a smile. “Not as welcoming a sight as your handsome face.” Stopping before him, she looked up to meet his gaze. “Come here, you big brute.” Wrapping her arms as best she could around his voluminous torso, she pressed up against him.
