A War in Crimson Embers

by Alex Marshall

  All that notwithstanding, the crippled crone was turning out to be a real bad copper piece. Ever since they captured her the scary-armored Tothans kept rumbling them despite how deep into the jungles they retreated. At first they just assumed the enemy soldiers were expert trackers, but it soon became apparent the Tothans weren’t just following their trail, they were somehow predicting the exact movements of their quarry, repeatedly cutting them off. Keun-ju suggested their mute prisoner must have something ensorcelled into her possessions that allowed them to locate her, just like the compass Hoartrap had used to find them in the Haunted Forest.

  This theory led to their holding the woman down and trying to pry off the last of the armored bugs that still clung to her wrinkly flesh; most had been crushed or simply dropped off when she was thrown from her flying beastie, but a few stalwarts remained. As soon as Purna decided to try clipping their legs off with her kukri the whole patchwork crew jumped ship, scurrying off into the undergrowth as Prince went bonkers chasing them.

  The woman hissed through her black teeth at the devil, which seemed to put the chill on Prince as much as it did Purna, the dog abandoning the chase and coming back to stare at the prisoner. It was the first time she’d made any noise at all, but prod her though Purna did she wouldn’t make another sound. When the persistent Tothans continued to home in on them despite their captive’s nakedness, Best had reluctantly thrown the strange bone blades she had claimed as trophies over a waterfall, but even still, the damn monsters found them everywhere.

  And unlike the old prisoner, monsters they must surely be—whatever else they were underneath their living platemail, the Tothan soldiers were just a little too bally big to be strictly human. They always chose the least convenient moments to attack, too, usually when one of the heroes was taking care of a natural errand. Yet their bulky armor was not conducive to running pell-mell through the often-treacherous terrain, and so time and again Purna and her crew gave the beggars the slip. You would think with this being their homeland and all the Tothans would wear better gear, something a little sportier for jogging through mangrove swamps and bamboo groves, but Purna wasn’t complaining. Plus, give the donkeys their day, that insect armor looked pretty damn righteous. Shame it didn’t lend itself to looting, what with being alive and all, otherwise she might have considered facing the patrols instead of fleeing them, beat down enough to get a matching set. Probably for the best that wasn’t an option, since even Best agreed they were better off outrunning the Tothans for the time being, lest they be overwhelmed by the seemingly endless numbers they had glimpsed beetling through the jungle behind them.

  “I could be sharing a coach ride with Sullen right now …” Keun-ju grumbled as they clambered out of another hollow following another ambush, using the nearly horizontal trees to pull themselves up the sheer slope.

  “And I’d rather be sharing a ride or two with Nemi, but you don’t hear me making a stink about it,” said Purna as she climbed after him, though to be fair she spent much of each waking day ruing her decision to go with Hoartrap instead of the fairer witch. And ruing her timidity at not having asked Nemi for a pair of her panties to take along as a keepsake—had she really been worried about skeeving her out, after all the things they’d done? Was such a thing even possible? Oh, how Purna missed her new friend, and for more than that, of course, of course … but seriously, that trick Nemi did with her—

  “Ugh,” said Keun-ju, pausing in his climb to press his veil tight to his nose and mouth. “You had to mention making a stink, didn’t you?”

  “Did I?” Purna had been drifting, and then something far less pleasant drifted down the steep hillside to reach her nose, too. “Woof. I know it’s usually just an expression, but seriously—do you think something crawled up inside her and died?”

  “Death smells more pleasant than that,” said Keun-ju, and Purna had to agree. The very worst thing about their Tothan captive was her malodorous emissions, which, while infrequent, were beyond noxious when they hit. Or maybe the smell’s origin was actually glandular instead of gaseous—it did have a certain sweaty funk to it—but Purna was disinclined to spend overmuch time tracking down the precise source of an old woman’s reek. The smart move was just to remember not to let Best get upwind of them with the prisoner in the future.

  “I’m telling you, that’s how they keep finding us,” said Purna as the scent mercifully dissipated into the muggy air. “All they have to do is follow their nose.”

  “It is almost bad enough for me to believe it,” said Keun-ju. “But that would not explain how they keep heading us off, and always know the ideal time to strike.”

  “In-toot-ition?” suggested Purna.

  “You … you are the worst person I know,” said Keun-ju. “In all seriousness, she must be giving them some sort of signals … other than that.”

  “Impossible!” Purna pointed to the top of the rise Best had already gained despite carrying their prisoner over one shoulder. “She’s naked, bound, and gagged!”

  “Not that she says much,” said Keun-ju, flipping his veil up to daub his forehead. This heat made even the Immaculate less of a stickler for etiquette, though it didn’t stop him from reproachfully side-eyeing Purna when her long black tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted. “Not that any of them ever say anything. That’s the most sinister part, I believe, how silent they remain even when you land a blow.”

  “Shhh!” said Purna, something rolling over in her head … and then going back to sleep. “Blast, I thought I … hmmm …”

  “There’s a first,” said Keun-ju. Prince barked down at them from the top, and Purna barked back, which Keun-ju absolutely hated, apparently. “Or maybe instead of communicating with their countrywoman they simply listen out for you two yapping away without a care in the Star, as if the whole jungle was deaf to dogs.”

  That was it. Points to Keun-ju, though she’d never admit it. “Dog whistles.”

  “Dogs can’t whistle,” said Keun-ju, and she almost proved him wrong with her canine tongue when she realized that was probably exactly what he wanted as a setup for some burn. Or maybe that was giving him too much credit; the boy had his strengths but trash talk wasn’t among them.

  “Not whistling dogs, whistles for dogs,” she explained, bracing her foot behind a prickly palmetto and then scrambling up to grab the trunk of a cinnamon tree. “Digs told me about them, ’cause he kept buying them to call Prince but they kept disappearing. I’m guessing the devil was the one making them go missing. Thing about them is, we can’t hear ’em—you blow, but there’s nothing. Except there’s something, because dogs will come running.”

  “What a fascinating song,” said Keun-ju, nearly slipping as they hit the really sharp climb near the top of the ridge. Catching his breath before attempting it, he looked down and said, “Surprised you didn’t save that for the campfire. Oh, I forget, we cannot have fires anymore, because you and Best had to hunt that flying grotesque and now we have a new friend who makes it difficult enough to go undetected.”

  “My point, brightboy, is these Tothans are maybe saying things to each other, just not things we can hear,” said Purna. “Like a dog whistle. Maybe she’s yodeling her heart out right now but we just can’t hear.”

  “Oh!” Keun-ju thought about it. “We gagged her, remember, just in case she decided to share her feelings at an inopportune moment?”

  “Hmmm,” said Purna. “Damn, forgot about that … but I mean, I could at least moan through a gag, you know? If they’ve got super great hearing, maybe that’s enough?”

  “You’re stretching, Purna,” said the Immaculate, doing a little of his own in preparation for the climb up the sheer hillside and then digging his toes into the loam.

  “Stretching’s good for every muscle, including the brain,” said Purna. “And listen, I’m putting together a plan—just back me up on whatever I say. I’m going to have some words with our prisoner when we get to the top, see if I can get her to crack this
time.”

  “Because a bizarre granny from Jex Toth who doesn’t speak at all probably understands Immaculate fluently?”

  “Hey, smart guy, why don’t we change the topic to something you are interested in, then?” said Purna. “Like your boyfriend’s hams.”

  That got him up the rise in a jiffy, at least, and Purna hurried up after, convinced she was onto something here … and then at the top of the rise had to put that aside for a moment as she joined Best and Keun-ju in gaping down the other side of the saddle, an even steeper slope falling away toward the cerulean sea. Stunning white ruins stretched through the jungle all the way down the hillside, and the harbor beyond teemed with … ships? Sea monsters? From up here the shapes that floated beside the docks seemed to be a mix of both. It made Purna queasy to see the long lines of Tothans disappearing inside these weird vessels—from this height the black warriors looked even smaller than the spiny bugs that made up their armor. Then Purna gave a start, because if her theory was right and the prisoner Best had set down to sit against a tree could indeed alert her people even over a decent distance and with a gag in place, well, then they were in serious trouble, given that they’d finally stumbled on an actual military base.

  “Hey!” Purna snapped her fingers in the woman’s pinched-up face, and she opened her sharp black eyes. She didn’t like Purna, was what those expressive eyes said, that she was beneath her … but Purna was glad she could tell that at a glance, because she needed to read this lady like a scroll. Or like a book, whatever, but scrolls were just cooler, obviously. “So, Tothan, you can communicate with your friends without saying a word, huh?”

  The sweat-stained stocking they’d used as a gag rose up her gaunt cheeks as the captive smiled. Prince trotted over, growling … but at Purna, not the prisoner. The little dog hated it when they tried to communicate with the old woman—being a devil and all he probably didn’t approve of mercy to the captured. She shushed him, turning back to the biddy.

  “And so you understand me just fine, too, huh?” she said, because Keun-ju was right: there not actually being a language barrier was a little unexpected, what with this crone being part of an invading army of monsters from this place way beyond the Star. “So the only question left is if you’ve been able to talk to us this whole time. You can, can’t you?”

  Even if it hadn’t been plain from the woman’s amused expression, she nodded, this time she actually nodded! Purna reached up and untied the gag, then offered the woman a hit from her waterskin. She drank, though not with the relish Purna would have expected, considering how thirsty she must be. Her slow sipping did give Purna time to figure out how best to play the hag, though, once she had her throat good and lubricated. Keun-ju came over to watch, but Best remained captivated by the bustling harbor below.

  “I know it might sound funny, considering how we met, but the whole reason we’ve been carrying you around and seeing you’re fed and watered is that we’ve taken a liking to you. You seem like a decent sort. Remind me of my auntie.” The old woman’s eyes widened along with her smile, and Purna adopted a conspiratorial tone as she put away her waterskin. “Best there, however, isn’t quite as sentimental as us. She doesn’t like you one bit. Isn’t that right, Keun-ju?”

  “I fear not,” said Keun-ju.

  The Tothan looked back and forth between them, clearly eating up their ruse.

  “So while me and Keun-ju understand you’ve just been trying to save your own skin, Best isn’t exactly the empathetic sort. And as soon as we tell her you’ve been bringing your crew down on us this whole time instead of being more friendly with the folks who rescued you from your crash, well, I don’t want to think what she’ll do to you.”

  “I know what she’ll do,” said Keun-ju, leaning in. “She’ll disembowel you while you’re still alive and then take cover, so that when your friends come out into the open to help you they shall die, too, and it will be all your fault.”

  The elderly Tothan didn’t look intimidated, exactly, but her glancing at Best confirmed she understood the threat. Fortunately Purna also had a damn good mahjong face, otherwise her surprise might have given away the scheme—damn but Keun-ju went dark in a hurry! Nothing for it now but to make the offer she’d intended to slowly build to, before Keun-ju had to go all Chainite on her ass.

  “We don’t want that to happen, auntie, and I promise—”

  Prince jumped in Purna’s face, snapping and snarling, but she grabbed him out of the air and clutched him to her chest, soothing him with snugs. He was her devil now, like it or nuts, and couldn’t intimidate her. Much, anyway. Holding his growling mouth shut took some effort, but the teacup tyrant was small enough she managed it after a brief but fierce struggle.

  “Like I was saying, auntie, if you start cooperating I promise we’ll let you go instead of letting Best show you her worst. We just want some information, so if you’ll talk we’ll—whoa!”

  Purna had been squatting on her heels in front of the old woman but the flood of emotions and images she suddenly experienced bowled her onto her butt.

  Ecstatic hatred and burning cities, shuddering pleasure and armies of monsters, the sky cracking, the earth falling into nothing …

  Purna just sat there, heart pounding, mouth dry, nauseated and trying to make sense of what had just fucking happened. And then it came again, miles of wet viscera enveloping her, squeezing like a vise on her skull, a musky stench searing the inside of her nostrils, and this time she did throw up her breakfast of snake meat and taro root. As she recovered a gentler, almost friendly feeling washed over her, and looking in horror at the half-naked, bound Tothan she saw that all the unnatural blackness had left the woman’s eyes, that she was now being surveyed by quite normal-looking brown irises. Purna had never been so frightened of something in her life. “If you can get into our heads, why didn’t you from the first?!”

  “Unlike thouuuuu I dast not speaaaaak to dogsssss,” hissed the captive in High Immaculate, her screechy voice almost as grating as her mental assault. It was an odd incongruity, hearing the ancient and strictly formal tongue used to dole out a basic burn, but Purna and Keun-ju exchanged excited glances. This crone spoke a language that was five hundred years out of common usage but was the mother tongue of both her people and his. Prince wiggled out of Purna’s grasp and she let him bound away, transfixed by the living enigma before her.

  “Respectfully, revered elder, may we ask who art thou, from whence thou hast come, and how might we make peace between thine people and our own?” asked Keun-ju in the same dialect.

  “Freeeeeedom,” hissed the woman, waving her bound hands at Purna. The way she held her long-nailed fingers made it look like she was clutching invisible oranges. “Thine oooooath. Freeeeedom for my truuuuuth.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Purna, popping out her kukri and struggling with the archaic phrasing. “But first thine must promise we the same. We dast not come at thou, thou dast not come at us. With violence. Promise we this.”

  “I shallllllll not,” said the ancient woman, positively gleeful in her refusal. “I pledge only deaaaaath. And slooooow it shall beeee.”

  “Well, that’s hardly civil,” said Purna, trying not to look as freaked-out as she felt. She figured Keun-ju looked spooked enough for both of them. Waving her long blade in the woman’s face, she said, “I hate to do this but if you won’t meet our pledge with one of your own I’m calling Best over. She’ll get you talking or I’m—”

  “No,” snapped the woman. “Tooooo late. Thou hast already made the oooooath. Freedom for truuuuuth.”

  “Poppycock,” said Purna, feeling her small hairs crawl toward heaven at the unpleasant severity of the woman’s expression and belated recognition of why Prince had tried to interrupt her own carelessly spoken words. “I promised, sure, but I can’t speak for my companions, who will think nothing of cutting thou down if thou displeases, uh, we.”

  “Besides, we hast not yet put it to a vote,” said Keun-ju.


  “Thou hast demanded answers threeeee,” the crone snarled at the Immaculate. “Who am I? I am become a living god, one of we eternal hierophants of the First Dark. From whence hast I come? From out of time, the heavens of the deep. And how might thine creatures make peace with our legion? Thou shall not. Thou shall submit, thou shall serve, and thou shall become sacrifice to welcome She Who Comes, but not a babe of thine doomed race shall know peace. This is truth. Now release meeeeee, on thy word.”

  “I don’t freakin’ think so,” said Purna, her High Immaculate slipping. “Even if what I said constituted some unbreakable contract, which it doesn’t, it stipulated freedom for information, but thou hast not informed us of shit. That mystical mumbo-jumbo might wash for a Chainite, but sister, I ain’t one. So if you expect me to let you go, you better tell me something worth hearing—like how many of you fuckers are out there, what’s your big plan, exactly, and how you came to be flying a giant monster right before we wrecked your shit?”

  Even having experienced it once before, Purna wasn’t prepared for the blast of raw thoughts penetrating her brain. It fucking hurt, and it fucking stunk, the aroma of burning mildew locking up her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe even as the blistering visions overheated her skull. She felt her scalp baking from the intensity of the transference, but that was in the background, and in the forefront was a nightmare pageant.

  Flight through the First Dark, and then the naked stars burning over Jex Toth, a joyous thrill in her breast to be liberated at last and savoring the sensation of hunting mortal flesh with a vassal behind her on the saddle and the whole world her skittish quarry.

  Priests of the Burnished Chain mutilating wildborn children.

  Priests of Jex Toth mutilating themselves, dying as mortals to live on as gods.

  Mortal armies marching under cobalt skies.

  Gargantuan insects with human features roiling in their nests, spraying out cascades of wet eggs.

  Fleshy kennels where lithe equine horrors were bred and broken, and bubbling pits of slime from whence crawled hulking behemoths.