by K. Eason
Then a third step, onto the broad stone with Helgi. The dog flicked a glance up at Veiko. Gruffed deep in his chest.
“Go on.”
Helgi snorted. Flicked and flattened his ears. The river answered: gurgled and frothed a full handspan over the lip of the stone. Helgi danced his paws away from the black water. Showed teeth and snapped. The rock sagged. Tilted. Sank another fingerlength into the river.
Once a noidghe began his crossing, the river did not change itself to challenge him. Surely, Taru would have warned him if it could do that. Would have told him what to do, how to sing the waters calm.
Bah. I cannot tell you everything.
Then Veiko heard the singing. Just a snatch of song, a mouthful like the last gasp of a drowning man. The words sank below the river, tangled in the current, slapped up on the rocks. A treacherous song that promised slick stone and cold water and sure drowning death if he kept going.
A voice he knew. Betrayal hit him like a fist in the belly. That was Taru. Taru’s singing, Taru’s challenge.
He peered across at the far bank, where the trees pressed together like a line of Illhari troops. And there she was, silver-streaked Pohja hunter’s braids, her bow on her back. Singing, though no smoke came from her breath, because she did not breathe: a song to raise the river into violence, to sweep him off the rocks and spill him into the black water.
Unless he turned back. He could do that. She had warned him, told him this choice of his was foolish. She meant to keep him from the wurm, to keep him from learning its secrets and challenging Tal’Shik.
Or to keep him alive. Perhaps that.
The rock tilted another fraction. The river raised its voice from mutter to snarl. The song was angry now. Violent. It raised the hair on Helgi’s back. Raised the heat in Veiko’s skin. He wanted to sing a counterstrike, wind and falling trees. Meet force with force and smash that singer into the river.
A warrior might do that. Or a fool. And he was neither.
He sang calm then. Sang the glacier, cold and slow. Sang the flat grey sky and silence and the stillness of the tundra. The settling cold over the black water, and peace to the dead. He sang the world into winter, the ghosts into their graves.
His breath smoked and hung in the air when he finished. There was frost on the rocks where the river had touched. Frost on Helgi’s fur, silver on the grey. The river itself had retreated, contracting in its bed. Mist wandered the surface in slow eddies.
He stepped onto the next rock, careful of the ice. To the one after that, with Helgi behind him. Taru smiled, for some value of smile, as Veiko stepped onto the bank. Her eyes wrinkled up at the corners, at least.
“That was well done.”
He counted three breaths before he answered. “You would have killed me.”
Taru raised both brows. “If you had been a fool, I would have let you kill yourself.”
Veiko filled his lungs, held them, let the breath go.
“Angry, are you? Betrayed? He”—Taru stabbed a finger at Helgi—“is your ally here. I was your teacher.”
“Was.”
“No longer. A noidghe must challenge an elder. It is the final test. Which you passed.” Her narrow gaze felt its way over his face. “Now I am only your ancestor, Veiko. And now I am certain you will not shame our line.”
He closed his eyes. His chest hurt. His throat did. Snow would say hell of a family. But Taru had not cast him out. His father had done that.
Taru sighed. Patiently, gently: “If you could not find the wits and the courage to cross the river against my song, then you cannot survive a wurm’s challenge. You still may not.”
A hero from one of the old tales would say, I fear no wurm. Veiko looked back at the river. Black water, the pale smears of ghosts beneath the surface. A noidghe learned fear. When to heed it and turn back. When to walk right past its warning. A noidghe served his people’s needs as much as his own. Veiko did not want the wurm’s lesson. Would not have sought it for his own sake and power. But he needed it. Snowdenaelikk needed it.
“I know,” he said to Taru. “But I must go nonetheless.”
Taru pointed at a great black gash, partway up the first ridge, wide as Illharek’s mouth. A river spilled out of it, a great silver tongue twisting down the mountain.
“That is a wurm’s lair. I will go with you, if you wish it. I cannot bargain with the spirit for you, but I can make your journey faster and safer. The mountains will be treacherous.”
“I wish it.” He made himself meet her eyes. “Thank you.”
Her gaze slid away. “Tal’Shik will certainly kill you. One way or another. Whether or not you win the wurm’s help.”
“Tal’Shik might. But she is not my object. I wish to kill the skin she wears. Nothing more. The Dvergiri conjurors will handle her spirit. They will meet her here, not me.” Snowdenaelikk would, but he did not say that.
A full five beats before Taru said, “Oh.” And another two before, “You grow wiser, Nyrikki’s son.”
“It was Snowdenaelikk’s suggestion.”
“Which you heeded.” She tossed her braids over her shoulder. “So I say again, you grow wiser. Good. I do not want you joining us so soon.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Snow stopped just out of bowshot. Raised her godmarked hand as if she held a lantern in it. Let her eyes slip half-closed. The witchfire came easily, slithering out of stone and air and bone and breath. A tiny conjuring, a simple one. But let a woman hold blue fire, let an outlander
skraeling
unaccustomed to
witchery
conjuring see those flames run and wrap her flesh and leave no marks—a lot of fights could be won that way, no weapon drawn. Kellehn—and the God—needed a reminder of who she was.
So stand and wait while the witchfire spilled down her arm. Wait and watch the Talir straighten. Watch him gather courage up like fallen coins.
He came toward her then, brisk and brave and fooling no one.
“You can snarl at him, yeah?” she told Logi. “But sit down. And no barking. For the moment, we’re still allies.”
She waited until Kellehn was some five paces away. Then she threw the witchfire down at the stones of the Illhari road. Drew a line across the road and made it blaze up. Cold fire, wouldn’t hurt if he crossed it, unless she willed it real.
Kellehn stopped. Frowned at the fire and at her.
“Snowdenaelikk. What is this?” Chiding her in Taliri with the stilted care one uses for children and outlanders.
She spat her answer in Dvergiri, straight out of the Suburban alleys.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should stay on that side, yeah?”
“As you wish.” He bowed, Taliri formality. Snow hadn’t liked it when Ehkla did it. Liked it no better now. Kellehn looked past her at the empty road. At Cardik. “Is Veiko well?”
“If he wasn’t, we wouldn’t be talking. You’d be dying. I’d feed you to Tal’Shik my fucking self, yeah?”
He cocked his head. Smiled faintly, as if she had said something unwittingly that amused him. “Not to your God?”
“He’s picky about what he eats. Not like that dragon. I assume you noticed her flying around yesterday, yeah? You might’ve mentioned she was living up there in that old Illhari tunnel. You must have noticed.”
Kellehn shrugged. “We were not sure where she laired. We thought we had driven her away. I am glad that you both survived.”
“That’s why you came looking for us, then? Got to say. We must have missed you running up and down the streets, calling our names.”
“There was a storm,” slowly, each word shaped and deliberate. “I took shelter. I thought you had followed me. And when I saw that you had not.” He made a what can you do gesture, shoulders and palms raised skyward. “I came here to wait. I told you. The city is not safe for us.”
“Mm. Noticed that. Especially where you abandoned us. So tell me. Did you mean Veiko to die in the garrison?”
“No.” He bar
ed his teeth in a credible imitation of angry dog. “I wanted the noidghe to understand what had happened here. To understand what he faced with the avatar. I knew he would manage the ghosts.”
“You could have warned him. Veiko’s a smart one. He’d understand bodies on spikes and sacrifice well enough. But leaving us there, that was a mistake. You told us the dead were asking for him. Well. That’s true. They did. They have. And they’ve told us some really fine stories. Like what happened to the survivors. You know. The other ones you didn’t mention. The people who stayed when the legion abandoned the city. Remember now? You should. You killed some of them when they tried to leave.”
“The—ah. Yes. They were sick with plague, and we could not risk contagion. Killing them was mercy.”
“Toadshit again. They weren’t sick. They were starving.”
He sighed. “Do you not know that ghost are terrible liars?”
“Wasn’t just any ghosts who told me. Friends of mine. Aneki. Fridis.” She watched Kellehn’s eyes widen just a hair. Watched him strangle his expression down to blank.
“Who?”
“Friends of mine, you motherless toadfucker. From Still Waters. Ah, yeah. You know the name. You been there? You in the group who looted the place? You one of the ones who raped Fridis? Or did you hurt Aneki instead?”
“No. No. There is no one alive left in Cardik now.”
“Didn’t say we found them living. Veiko’s noidghe. He’s back there now, talking to them. They’ve told us all kinds of interesting things. Useful information. Now I’m out here to see if you have anything for us. Maybe truth this time.”
Kellehn started to turn. Snow turned the fire orange and hot and real and flicked it at him like a whip. “No, don’t look behind you. You signal your people to fire on me, you’ll waste arrows.” Breathe. Work some spit into her mouth. Hang Tsabrak’s smirk off her lips. “I’m standing on an Illhari road. I can conjure wood into fucking raindrops, yeah? All you’ll get is wet.”
Now who’s talking toadshit?
Kellehn didn’t know it. His spine was very stiff now, all the bone turned to steel. “I did not take you to the plaza to die. I did not leave you in the city to die. And I have not lied to you, Snowdenaelikk.”
“No? You failed to mention the ghosts. And where the avatar lived. You know where that tunnel goes, yeah? Straight to Illharek? And you didn’t bother warning Szanys Dekklis when you were there. I’d say that’s lying.”
“No. Snowdenaelikk.” Kellehn reached his hands toward her. His sleeves smoked. “Please, hear me.”
“Sure. I like stories. Tell yours from that side of the fire.”
“We do need your help. I did not lie.”
“Help. Huh. Who’s we? Don’t spit tribe names at me. Who were those Taliri on the poles outside Illharek? The ones you showed Dekklis?”
“Raiders.”
“Toadshit. Those Taliri were rivals. Or sacrifices.”
“Hear me, half-blood. Godsworn to the Laughing God. Conjuror.” Each title louder than the last, a storyteller calling his audience to silence. “You asked for the truth. Then let me tell it.”
She gestured the fire blue again. Inclined her head and did not take eyes off him. “Go on.”
“There is no army, not as Illhari know the word. We are allied tribes. That alliance is fracturing.”
“So. The bodies outside Illharek. Your idea?”
His eyes gleamed. “The Rhostiddir have no love for the Auli.”
“You know that’s how Tal’Shik works, yeah? Illharek’s got a long history of bloodfeuds.”
“So do the Taliri. It was an opportunity to eliminate one of ours. Even so, I did not lie to you. We were not willing disciples. I told you, Ehkla forced her way to power in my tribe. She would have destroyed us if we’d fought her directly.”
“And she’s dead now. Thought you said you’d taken your freedom or some rot.”
“I said some of our tribe did, and that is true.”
“But not your part.”
“No! We did. We fled. Those of us who did not love Ehkla. But we were outnumbered, and we would have died.”
He stared at her. Waiting for—what? Man had metal for balls, he thought he was getting sympathy out of her. She raised both brows. “Because the Rhostiddir have enemies, yeah? So, who caught you? The rest of the Rhostiddir, or some other tribe?”
“Our own people.” He scowled. Swallowed and grimaced. “Then Sian offered us truce. She said that our tribe was stronger as one, and that she would forgive our betrayal. So we accepted. And she did.”
“Sian?”
“Ehkla’s successor.”
“So, you went right back to the same toadshit. That’s what you’re telling me. You got away, only you fucked it up and your own people caught you, and now you’re back where you were. You didn’t lie. You told, what, half the truth. Just the wrong half. You did bring us here to die.”
“No. I brought you here to kill Sian.” Kellehn flicked a glance at the witchfire. “You have a reputation, Snowdenaelikk.”
“Do I.”
“In Cardik. Oh yes, it was known who you were. There were spies here for years, watching. Ehkla asked for Tsabrak to send you to meet her, because you are half-blood. She thought you might listen to her. Perhaps even betray your God. She was stupid. But we saw what you did.”
“If you wanted me to kill the dragon, then why involve Veiko at all?”
“Sian asked for him because Tal’Shik wants him. There will be great favor for whomever delivers him.” A shrug. “I do not want him dead. I do not want to serve Tal’Shik. But I also do not want to die on a pole.” Kellehn licked his lip. “You killed an avatar once. You might kill another and rid us of Sian, and then the Rhostiddir have our revenge. But if you could not, then we would still find favor with her for delivering Veiko Nyrikki.”
“So you dropped us in the middle of a ghost city during a godmagic storm, and that was our test?”
“I told you. I did not intend that to happen.”
“And I still don’t believe you. You lie once, people think you’re full of toadshit every time you talk. Here’s what I do know. I can kill you right now. Take Veiko and leave. Sian can eat your people, one by one, flesh and soul, for all I care.”
“If you leave, she will move against Illharek.” Strange little smile on Kellehn’s face, pride and hate wound together like yarn. “And it will fall. The legions cannot face her. You know that, yes? But I can help you.”
“Oh. Now there’s help, is there? What?”
“I can get close to the dragon. She will not see you, conjuror, not if you have any skill. And my people will help you this time.”
Snow pretended to consider that while the wind shifted and breathed cool across her skin, contrast to the sun’s dying scorch. She watched the clouds run down the sun like dogs with a wounded deer. Surrounded now. Not much longer before they dragged it under grey. There were a half-dozen ways she’d imagined this going down. Kellehn offering to walk with her back through Cardik’s gates hadn’t been one of them.
She blew air through her teeth. “Tell Veiko what you told me. He agrees to your deal, then I will.”
“Bring him, and I will tell him.”
“Oh no. You come with me into Cardik.” She gestured at the trees. “All of you. He agrees, we hide there until morning. Then we all hunt the dragon together.”
Kellehn’s turn to hesitate. To frown. “The city is not safe at night.”
She sighed. “Listen. I’m godsworn. If you think I can kill an avatar, you should know I can protect you from a few raggedy ghosts. How do you think Veiko and I have been managing these past two nights? Not just noidghe toadshit.”
Kellehn stared at her. Flat, cold, considering. The wind ran its fingers through her topknot. Hissed around the rings in her ears. Silence, except for her heartbeat, beating too loud in her ears.
Then Kellehn raised his arm. Held it high, fingers wide, and the Taliri trickled out of
the forest in pairs and trios. More than a few bows nocked and half-drawn. Snowdenaelikk pretended not to notice. Dismissed the witchfire and turned her back on all of them. Snapped her fingers and Logi went with her, casting nervous looks back at the Taliri on the road. At Kellehn, who walked behind her, deliberate in his choice. Damn near stomping, wasn’t he, and staring daggers at her back.
So. Walk chin up, shoulders back, no fear.
The sky was flat grey now, sunless, all the clouds melted together and congealed into a leaden mass. Still air. Heavy. The weight of a thousand eyes, watching.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”
Walk, fuck and damn, don’t run. Past the ruined fields. Through the gate. The Taliri dropped back, even Kellehn. Kept a handful of paces behind, as if she might burst into flames and burn them.
She led them up the Hill, into the merchants’ quarter, past the shattered storefronts and the bones and the cobweb shadows. Up and around and up again, into the narrow lanes of the highborn districts. She moved faster, widening the gap between her and Kellehn, until she turned a final corner and found herself alone in a market square with a good view of the gates and all the streets between.
There were two women waiting there, a bright orange skirt and Fridis’s very red hair like blood against the dead city stone. Snow nodded at them. Turned back, looked down. The Taliri trailed out like beads on a broken necklace down the streets. All of them were inside the walls now.
Snow wove the gates out of memory and air, light and shadow turned to steel and wood as thick as a woman’s forearm was long. She conjured them swinging, the push of displaced air, the hiss of oiled hinges. Conjured the dull metal bang as they closed. None of it was real; the gates wouldn’t hold against a charge or even a determined finger-poke. It would have taken an adept to conjure those gates whole again. But the Taliri didn’t know that. Illhari witchery had a reputation. She had a reputation in Cardik, and not the one Kellehn thought he knew.
A ripple passed through the Taliri. Heads turned. Alarm bristled among them, whispers and muttering like distant thunder.
Then Kellehn rounded the corner and saw her. “Snowdenaelikk! Where are you—who is that with you?”
