Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  Knot stopped, leaning on his blackbark staff. “We should go over there,” he said. “Don’t want whatever the argument is to get too heated.”

  “Not sure you’ll have much credibility, nomad. The last time they saw you, you were a blabbering noble from Alizia. And these people don’t seem stable to me.”

  “How do you mean?” Knot asked, heading towards the commotion.

  “They’re a mob,” Astrid said. “Right now they’re fawning over Jane, but one little shift in the wind and things could go sour.”

  “You’re worried they might want to roast a vampire at the stake?” He looked back at Astrid with a smile, although he was only half joking.

  “The thought’s crossed my mind,” she muttered.

  “Sounds like you’ve dealt with crowds like this before.”

  “Always amazed at your speed of mind, nomad. You catch on to all the subtleties. Shouldn’t we get Jane for this?” she whispered. “Or Cinzia, at least?”

  “No time. They’re translating, anyway.”

  Knot could tell Astrid wasn’t won over by that argument, but it was too late now.

  “Who else would have taken it?” Knot heard someone say as he approached the arguing group in the center of the gathering. “No one around here needed an extra meal except you two.” The speaker was a man, tall, and skinnier than a fishing line. The way his clothing hung loosely on his body didn’t indicate wealth, but the way he looked down at the two tiellans before him bespoke pride.

  “We ain’t got nothin’ to do with your horse,” one of the tiellans said. He was short, as most tiellans were, just a few fingers taller than Knot’s shoulder, perhaps, and dwarfed by the tall human looking down on him. His companion was female, with silvery blond hair and pale-gray eyes. Her siara, the traditional scarf that almost all tiellan women wore around their necks, was thick and reached up well past her chin. The man, too, wore the traditional araif, a wide-brimmed hat, jaunted at an angle on his head. Both tiellans were gaunt.

  “Just like a tiellan to lie,” the human said. His voice was full of anger, and Knot didn’t like the tone of it.

  “We ain’t lying,” the tiellan man said; Knot could see the fear in his eyes. Knot couldn’t blame him for being scared; the majority of the crowd around them was human. The woman did a better job of hiding her fear, but Knot could still see it in her clenched jaw and darting eyes.

  “Don’t do anything hasty,” Astrid whispered. “I can tell you’re aching for something.”

  “I’m achin’, all right,” Knot said. He walked between the two arguing parties. “Mornin’, folks,” he grunted. “What’s the issue?”

  The people recognized him immediately. “The Healed One,” they called him. Knot could sense the importance of the way they said it, like it was a title. Wasn’t a title Knot cared for. But if it’d lend him authority to settle whatever in Oblivion was going on here, so be it.

  The tall human who’d made the accusation looked at Knot with wide eyes. He seemed unsure of what to do. Eventually he settled on a sort of half bow. Knot would have laughed at the gesture if his temper hadn’t been up.

  “No need for that,” Knot said. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  The man raised himself up, standing tall once more, and looked at Knot. “My name is Dannel, my Lord. And these two—”

  “Dannel, is it?” Knot took a step towards the man. Dannel nodded and attempted to speak again, but Knot spoke over him. “A moment, Dannel. I’d rather hear these two, first.”

  “But, my Lord—”

  “A moment, Dannel. And I ain’t no lord.” He turned to the tiellans. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m Cavil, and this is my wife Ocrestia, my Lord.”

  “Don’t call me lord,” Knot said, though he made an effort to sound a bit gentler this time.

  Ocrestia stepped forward. “That man,” she said, nodding at Dannel, “accused us of stealing his horse. We ain’t seen no horse of his, nor would we know what to do with one if we did. Fool probably neglected to tie it up and is looking for someone to blame.”

  Knot raised an eyebrow. He liked Ocrestia already. But, judging by the murmurs around him, the crowd was not so taken with her. A tiellan woman referring to a human that way wouldn’t go over well. But Ocrestia didn’t seem to care, and Knot liked that.

  Dannel did care. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” he said, advancing. Ocrestia took a step back.

  Knot grabbed Dannel by the collar of his coat and yanked him away. “What’d I tell you about silence?” Knot asked, glaring at the man.

  “Who the hell are you, anyway?” Dannel asked. He’d apparently caught on to the fact that Knot was more than a little biased in this dispute. “What right do you have to tell me what I should do?”

  “He is the Healed One.”

  The response came before Knot could mouth one of his own. He turned to see a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had flaming orange hair. She was there when I woke up from the last episode, Knot realized. Astrid had pointed her out, said she’d tried to reason with him.

  “He is the Healed One,” the woman said again. “He has been touched by the Prophetess’s own hand, and thus touched by Canta herself. He is chosen, a special vessel for us to witness Canta’s power. Let us hear his arbitration on this issue; we owe him that much.”

  “Arbitration?” Knot muttered. He’d only been interested in getting this tiellan couple out of trouble. Arbitration was entirely different. Then again, he hadn’t really had a plan in the first place. Maybe this was the best option.

  Knot looked around in what he figured was an authoritative manner. Strangely, just like fighting, just like knots on a fishing boat, the attitude came naturally to him.

  “Know what you’re doing, nomad?” Astrid whispered.

  Knot ignored her. “This man claims you stole his horse,” Knot said, pointing at Dannel.

  “He says we ate the stupid thing,” Ocrestia said. “Proves he’s truly an idiot. Who in their right mind would eat a perfectly good horse?”

  Knot looked to Dannel. If arbitration was the name of the game, he supposed he’d better hear from both parties. “This true? You think they ate your horse?”

  Dannel didn’t look nervous, and he didn’t need to be. Most of the humans would likely go along with his accusation. “They were hanging around my camp the other day,” he said.

  “Your camp,” Ocrestia said, stepping forward, “is right next to the pond. That’s our only source of water, case you forgot.”

  Knot raised an eyebrow, looking at Dannel. Dannel shrugged. “Of course. Where else would I camp?”

  “Anyone else camped near the pond?”

  This time, Dannel at least had the dignity to break eye contact. “The other side of the pond is forested, too many trees to make camp. There was only enough room for my group and a few others.”

  Canta’s breath, this community ain’t going to last long, Knot thought.

  “Did you tie your horse up last night?” The young woman with red hair asked the question. She was dressed simply, but in well-fitting clothes. Difficult to tell what kind of background she came from.

  “Of course I tied my horse up last night, what kind of half-wit do you think I am?” Dannel replied.

  “Can your wife confirm that?” she asked.

  “My wife?” Dannel said.

  The woman spoke to someone in the assembled group. “Karia, what have you done for your husband almost every night since you arrived?”

  Another woman spoke from in the crowd. She must have been short; Knot couldn’t see her, anyway. Knot found the idea that someone so short was married to someone so tall oddly humorous.

  “I’ve been tying up his horse,” the woman said. “Almost every night.”

  “Not every night,” Dannel muttered quickly. “I’ve done it a time or two.”

  “And did you do it last night, Karia?” the woman asked.

  “No, I did not.”<
br />
  Knot nodded to himself. He looked at Dannel, whose face had paled.

  “Why didn’t you say anything this morning?” he asked, his voice strained. “You could have saved us all this trouble, woman!”

  Karia’s quiet voice responded. “You didn’t ask me. You stormed off shouting about tiellan thieves before I had a chance to say anything.”

  Dannel’s mouth was moving silently. Knot snorted, and then realized that everyone—except for Dannel—was looking at him.

  “Right,” Knot said. “Cavil, Ocrestia, you’re both cleared of the, er, charges.” Knot looked at Dannel, and smiled. “If you actually find your horse, you can start tying it up yourself for a change.”

  The crowd was already dispersing. Knot shrugged off Cavil and Ocrestia’s thanks. The red-haired woman and Dannel’s own wife had done most of the talking. The tiellans said their goodbyes, and moved off towards what Knot assumed was the tiellan district of the camp. Might be useful to know where that was. He wondered if it was something they could change. No need for the tiellans to be separated. He’d talk to Cinzia and Jane about it.

  “Thank you for your arbitration, Healed One,” the redheaded woman said.

  “Didn’t do much,” Knot muttered. “Should thank yourself, you seemed to know the lay of it better than me.”

  “Don’t call him Healed One,” Astrid interjected.

  The woman ignored Astrid. “Nevertheless, I’m grateful for your participation. It is good for the others to see you interact with them, to see what Canta has done for you, Healed One.”

  “I said don’t call him that,” Astrid said.

  Knot placed a hand on her shoulder. “The girl’s right. I’m Knot; this ‘Healed One’ business ain’t my style.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “Titles are never about who you are, but rather what. Nevertheless, I will do as you say, of course.”

  “Don’t care much for whos or whats. Just know what I do and don’t like to be called.”

  “Curious,” the woman said, cocking her head to the side.

  “What d’you mean?”

  “You speak like them.”

  Knot didn’t have to ask what she meant. “You got a problem with the way I speak?”

  “Not a problem,” the woman said, “I am simply curious. And even more curious that you tolerate such company.”

  Knot frowned. “Just because I hang around the tiellans doesn’t mean—”

  “I wasn’t referring to the tiellans,” the woman said, staring at Astrid.

  Knot’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know—”

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said. “Your secret is safe with me. The Prophetess seems to accept this… creature. I will, too. The Prophetess knows Canta’s will.”

  “You’ve got a long way to go on figuring out what ‘acceptance’ means,” Astrid said, glaring back at the woman. “If this is your idea of it, you can go—”

  “Hey,” Knot said, squeezing her shoulder. Astrid shrugged him off and walked away.

  Knot frowned at the woman. “You made her angry.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. If you’re trying to get on my good side, it ain’t working. Who in Oblivion are you?”

  “My name is Elessa,” the woman said, meeting Knot’s eyes. “You’ll forgive my bluntness. I don’t mean to offend. I’m not used to being around so many people. Let alone so many different… types.” She held out her hand. Knot raised an eyebrow. He took her hand, though. No sense in making enemies, and Elessa exuded an energy, a crackling that Knot could almost feel.

  “You been here long?” Knot asked.

  “Longer than most,” Elessa said. “I arrived almost one year ago.”

  Knot frowned. “What business did you have here a year ago?” He mentally calculated the timeframe. “The Oden family wouldn’t have arrived here until five months ago, at the earliest. Word of what had happened in Navone would’ve taken some time to travel, too. Are you from Tinska?”

  “No,” Elessa said slowly, “but how I came here is a story for another time. Please excuse me. I will see you soon, Healed One.”

  9

  CINZIA RUBBED HER EYES. She was tired, but nowhere near the level of exhaustion that she should feel. Once again, she and Jane had translated through the night, and most of that day. She yearned for sleep, but was also grateful to avoid it. After nearly six months, she still saw Kovac when she closed her eyes. She saw him in her dreams, the way his eyes glowed green, iridescent smoke trailing upwards. His face, sideways on the wooden floor after Cinzia had shoved his own dagger through his eye.

  “Are you well, Cinzia?”

  Cinzia shivered. She took a deep breath and nodded at Jane. “Just tired.” Even in the house, she could smell the ocean. It made her smile.

  “I know the feeling,” Jane said. They were in Cinzia’s old bedroom, which seemed completely different than Cinzia remembered it from her trips here when she was a young girl. The great wooden chest, the collection of sashes and scarves she had kept here, the sheets and the curtains and everything she remembered were gone. Everything except for the set of dark oak figurines of different heroes from the Age of Marvels, crafted and carved by her father and given to her on one of her birthdays. That was still here, the figures set up on a small stand in one corner of the room.

  Jane stood at the window, looking out at the grounds. She beckoned for Cinzia to join her. “Come here and watch with me. I think something is happening outside.”

  Cinzia stood and yawned. “What is it now?”

  “I can’t be sure,” Jane said, “but I think it involves Knot.”

  “Goddess, not again,” Cinzia muttered. Panic was beginning to rise in her chest. “We have to go out there and help him.”

  “No,” Jane said. “I don’t think this is another episode. I think he is helping them.”

  Cinzia joined her sister at the window. Near the pond, a small group had gathered. She could barely make out Knot at the center of it, along with another very tall man.

  “I think the tall man was arguing with some others,” Jane said. “It is difficult to tell from here. Knot seems to have intervened.”

  Cinzia frowned. But she assumed Astrid was with him; if there was a problem, the girl would come running.

  “There was an argument?” Cinzia asked.

  “It seemed so.”

  “They don’t know how to govern themselves,” Cinzia said. “None of them have ever lived like this, humans and tiellans so close, here for the same purpose.”

  “We need to do something about it,” Jane said.

  “What can we do?”

  “Canta has spoken to me,” Jane said.

  Canta has spoken to you. Cinzia was no longer surprised by such words.

  “I’ve received visions, commandments,” Jane continued. “We’re translating the Codex of Elwene. We now need to form all of that into something organized.”

  “A religion,” Cinzia whispered. Then her betrayal of the Denomination would be complete.

  “A religion, yes,” Jane said.

  The crowd near the pond dispersed. Sure enough, Cinzia saw Astrid standing by Knot’s side. Relief coursed through her. Not an episode, then.

  Cinzia turned from the window and sat down on her bed. “Why don’t we just send them all home?” she asked.

  “Cinzia…”

  “Why don’t we? What use are they to us, Jane?”

  For the first time since Cinzia and Jane had been reunited after their seven-year separation, Cinzia sensed anger from her sister.

  “Is use your only concern?” Jane asked. “What they can do for us?”

  Cinzia hesitated. “That’s not what I meant.” But it was what she meant, was it not? The people surrounding her family’s mansion were a burden, and Cinzia wanted them gone. But that was not the only reason.

  “It is less that they are useless,” Cinzia said, “and more that they are actively harming us. Our fami
ly. You, and your crusade.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “My crusade? What are you talking about?”

  “They are not good for you, Jane. The last thing you need is a group of sycophants inflating your ego, and the last thing this”—Cinzia gestured to the Codex of Elwene, open on her bed—“needs is a bunch of unstable people threatening its very existence.”

  “Cinzia, these people are the crusade. We do all of this for them. They’ve traveled hundreds of miles; many gave up their homes to come here.”

  “So let them go back to their homes. To their lives! We don’t need them.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you understand. I know you’ve felt sorrow. I can’t imagine how devastating Kovac’s loss was to you. But you seem to have forgotten the circumstances under which he was killed. He was possessed, Cinzia. By one of the Nine Daemons. The worst of them, if what we have been translating is correct. So we do need these people. We are fighting a war. You’ve not yet realized it, but you will.”

  Cinzia said nothing. Whatever Jane was, whatever power was controlling her or leading her, one thing was clear. What they were translating, this conflict with the Nine Daemons—the Rising itself, for Canta’s sake—was all real.

  “You need to choose your path,” Jane said. “I know you’re struggling. You’ve all but severed ties with the Denomination, and yet you still resist what we have seen—what we have done together. You told me what happened to you on the rooftop in Izet. I know you believe in this translation; why can you not believe in everything else?”

  “I have not felt it yet.” Cinzia had asked herself this question many times, and the answer always came back to the same thing. “Your visions, they make no sense to me. All I have is the fear of what may happen if we do nothing. Fear of the Nine Daemons; fear of the Rising. I have felt nothing besides that.”

  “And why must you feel it?”

  Because I need to know before I trust, Cinzia wanted to say.

  “Sometimes faith requires us to act before we know, sister,” Jane said, as if in response to Cinzia’s thoughts.

  Do you not think I already know that? Cinzia had been a priestess. She had taught about faith and studied it for years. And yet, had she really been practicing it?