by R. T. Kaelin
“Relax,” rumbled Broedi. “It is only sunlight on snow.” Tapping the young man on the shoulder, he pointed in the direction of the port. “The port is there.”
Nikalys moved his hand from his eyes and, still squinting, began to move toward it. Broedi broke into a sprint, careful not to slip on the icy snow.
Wren reached the circle of soldiers forming around the slit and pushed past the men, cursing at them to get out of the way. The men parted and stared, wide-eyed, as the tijul slipped by. Nikalys suddenly appeared next to Wren, his sword held in a ready position. Broedi arrived a moment later and issued a warning.
“Be ready for anything,”
Everyone around the port nodded, their eyes locked on the midnight-black slit in the air. As they waited, Jak, Nundle, and the noblewomen rushed up and moved through the ring of soldiers, stopping to stand a few paces behind Nikalys and the White Lions.
A few anxious moments later, a small figure emerged from the black of the port, hobbling through while leaning on a walking stick. Tobias took two steps in the days-old snow and stopped, staring around the courtyard with half-closed eyes and a frown on his face, completely ignoring his armed reception. A set of horse’s reins led back into the blackness.
“Oh, wondrous. Snow.”
Broedi rumbled, “Good days ahead, Tobias.”
The tomble glanced up at Broedi, nodded a silent greeting, and immediately shifted his gaze to Wren. His frown deepened into a full scowl.
“So, you’re here.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you, too,” said Wren.
“Your hair looks nice. Long and shiny as always.”
“Thank you, Tobias. How’s the leg?”
Tobias sighed and gave a slight shake of his head.
“Haven’t changed, have you, Wren?”
Turning to eye the port, Wren shrugged and asked, “Why would I?”
Shaking his head, Tobias eyed the group around him, asking, “Is all this for me?”
“Better to be prepared than to be surprised,” answered Broedi.
A lopsided grin crept up one side of Tobias’ face. “Bet you a ducat I can still surprise you.” Stepping to the side of the slit, he tugged the reins, and said, “No matter what steps through that port, try to remain calm.”
Worried, Broedi rumbled, “Why?”
“Because I asked, that’s why,” answered Tobias. Glancing at Nikalys’ sword and Wren’s spear, he added, “And lower your weapons. There is no need for them.” He eyed the soldiers at the ready. “All of you, please.”
Nikalys glanced over to Broedi, looking for guidance. After a moment, Broedi gave a short nod, indicating he should follow Tobias’ request. As the young man let the tip of his white blade drop, brushing the snow, Commander Aiden shouted an order that the Shadow Manes were to follow suit.
A moment later, Nundle’s chestnut horse began to emerge from the port.
“You stole my horse,” muttered Nundle.
Tobias glanced over and said, “Ah, yes. Sorry. But you weren’t using him, and he was a good size for me, so…” He trailed off and shrugged. Seeing Wren still holding his longspear at the ready, he snapped, “Hells, Wren. Put your blasted spear down.”
“I’ll put it down when I’m sure it’s safe.”
“It’s safe,” said Tobias.
“So you say.”
“Wren,” rumbled Broedi. “Listen, please.”
The tijul glared at them both before jamming the butt end of the spear into the snow.
“Fine. By chance, are these more lawbreakers from the Boroughs? If so, just tell me now so I can go inside. I do not wish to stand in the cold and greet every one of them.”
Broedi shot a quick glance at Nundle and found the redheaded tomble—hat on his head again—staring at Tobias with narrowed eyes. Nundle was sharp. If he had not yet figured out the implication of Wren’s statement, he would shortly.
Tobias gave Wren a murderous glare and, with thick venom lacing each word, said, “No, Wren. I am—”
Tobias cut his response short as a strange Borderlander emerged from the port and stopped but a pace from the slit, immediately shutting his eyes against the combined brilliance of sun and snow.
Old burn scars covered the right side of the man’s face and neck, he was missing an eyebrow, and his black hair grew on only one side of his head. As he lifted his right hand to shade his eyes from the sun, Broedi noticed it was also burned and missing two fingers. The clothes that hung from his body were little more than tattered rags. A beat-up scabbard of Dust Man design was at his side, a sword’s hilt poking from the top.
The Borderlander hissed, “Blast the Gods, it’s cold!”
Tobias stared up at the man and said, “I warned you, Rhohn. Now, like I told you. Step to the side.”
Cracking open his eyes a fraction, the man nodded and scooted a few paces to his right. Behind Broedi, Jak ordered a soldier to get some blankets. Commander Aiden did not object.
Khin stepped from the port next, leading a midnight black horse behind him. He drew in a long, cold breath of air and visibly relaxed, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Broedi glanced over at Wren, wondering what his reaction would be. The tijul was gaping like a fish seeing a bird fly for the first time.
Khin’s gaze darted about, scanning the crowd before him. Ultimately, his stare settled on Broedi and, in his wispy, slow voice, said, “Remain calm.”
Confused, Broedi asked, “Why must—”
Two dozen Strands of Air popped into existence and came together quickly, forming what Broedi judged to be a partially complete Weave. A moment later, an invisible barrier slammed down, creating a perfect ring of crushed snow that separated the new arrivals from everyone else.
“Khin?” asked Broedi. “What is going on?
As the aicenai stepped aside, he turned his blue-eyed gaze towards Broedi.
“It is for the best.”
His eyes locked on the port, Nikalys asked, “Where’s Kenders?” The young man’s voice was steady, but Broedi could hear the undercurrent of worry in the question.
Tobias glanced up and met Nikalys’ stare, but remained quiet.
A moment later, a creature whose type Broedi had not seen in ages stepped from the blackness of the port. Broedi blinked in surprise as he realized a kur-surus stood before him. Covered in thick, brown and white fur, he—Broedi recognize the male scent in an instant—stood tense and taut, his gaze darting about the yard. His breathing was quick, his nostrils flaring. A concerned murmur arose from the soldiers. Some began to raise their swords again.
“Keep them down!” ordered Tobias. Lowering his voice, he spoke in a calm and soothing tone, adding, “Relax, Okollu. You are safe.” The kur-surus appeared doubtful.
Broedi shot a number of questioning looks at Tobias and Khin. He hoped the pair had an incredibly good reason for what they were doing.
“Where is my sister, Tobias?” asked Nikalys, his tone insistent. Despite the fact that a kur-surus stood before him, his focus was elsewhere.
The tomble held up a hand and said, “Against my advice, she has gone into—”
Wren interrupted, exclaiming, “There’s a mongrel standing here and the first thing you ask is ‘Where is my sister?!’”
Okollu’s black lips drew back, the fur on the back of his neck stood on end, and a low, threatening growl reverberated in his throat.
“Mongrel is a derogatory term,” rumbled Broedi softly. “Please do not call him that.”
The growl cut off as Okollu shifted his gaze to Broedi, curiosity shining bright in his eyes.
“Why?” asked Wren.
“Because things will go so much sweeter if you do not,” answered Tobias.
Wren glared at the kur-surus, yet had the grace to remain silent.
Stepping forward, Khin said, “You may dismiss the soldiers. There is no need for them.”
On the opposite side of the group, Commander Aiden stood, staring at Broedi, silentl
y asking with eyes alone whether or not to give the order to stand down. Broedi hesitated.
After a moment, Okollu smiled, his sharp canine teeth poking from his lips, and growled softly, “If you are the hope of my kind, then my sacrifices have been in vain. I am but one kur-surus yet the air reeks of fear.”
He was right. Broedi could smell the soldiers’ sweat.
Looking to Tobias, Broedi asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“I am,” replied the tomble.
Broedi eyed the kur-surus for a moment longer before rumbling, “Commander, you and your men may withdraw.”
The soldier’s questioning gaze shifted to behind Broedi. A moment later, Duchess Aleece spoke.
“Do as he says, Commander.”
Nodding once, the soldier shouted, “Put your blades to sleep and back away!”
The ring of soldiers sheathed their swords—slowly—and began to retreat to the courtyard’s walls. Once they were an acceptable distance away, the partially complete Weave surrounding the new arrivals faded. With a soft pop, the port disappeared as well.
A moment later, Nundle muttered, “Broedi?”
The tomble’s bewildered tone was enough to pull Broedi’s attention away from the kur-surus.
“Yes?”
Nundle was staring around him, his face twisted up in confusion. “The port is gone, but I still sense Strands of Void.” His gaze locked on Tobias and he lifted a hand to point at a leather sack clenched in Tobias’ walking stick hand. “They’re coming from there.”
Eyeing Nundle, Tobias said, “You are strong with Void, aren’t you?” Releasing Traveler’s reins, he took the pouch in his free hand and said, “Here, Broedi. We found one.”
With an underhand toss, he lobbed the small sack to Broedi. Lifting a hand, Broedi easily caught the pouch and was immediately struck by how heavy it seemed.
Tobias warned, “I’d highly advise not opening it right now. It’s a thousand times worse if it’s not in the pouch.”
Broedi’s eyes widened a fraction as he realized what he held. Quickly shifting his gaze to Khin, he said, “Your oath? I release you from it. For now.”
The aicenai nodded, his face utterly impassive, and said, “Understood.”
Ignoring the curious stares of those around him, Broedi concentrated on the conversation he had just had in Lady Vivienne’s offices, effectively telling Khin that those who stood here now knew of the Suštinata.
Khin’s only reaction was a slight crinkling of skin around his eyes.
Broedi wondered if the pouch he held contained the Suštinata of Void.
Khin nodded once.
Broedi glanced at the Borderlander and kur-surus, wondering at the reason behind their presence.
Khin turned to Rhohn and Okollu.
“It is time to share your message.”
Shivering from the cold, the scarred Borderlander glanced to the kur-surus.
“Your turn.”
Okollu shook muzzle and huffed, “It would be better if it came from you, I think.”
Rhohn shrugged, faced the group, and in a clear, crisp voice, said, “Indrida’s prophecy is upon us. The Eternal Anarchist is a saeljul who goes by the name Tandyr. The Borderlands have fallen, the Marshlands are next. Vanson and Everett are in his palm for reasons I still do not understand. Time grows short. The Shadow Manes must rise.”
A surprised murmur drifted through the snowy courtyard.
Hearing a rustle of cloth behind him, Broedi glanced over his shoulder to find Duchess Aleece marching forward. She stopped on Broedi’s right and demanded, “Who gave you that message?” She glanced around the courtyard, eyeing the gathered soldiers, and added, “And answer softer this time.”
Rhohn turned to stare at the kur-surus.
“He did.”
As one, the group peered at Okollu. Little breath clouds rose from the kur-surus’ muzzle as he stared back at them.
Almost without pause, Duchess Aleece asked, “And who gave it to you?”
The kur-surus growled softly, “Miriel Syncent.”
For a moment, the only sound in the yard was the gentle whistling of the Winter wind. Broedi stared at the kur-surus, his face blank, as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing.
Recovering quicker than them all, Duchess Aleece asked, “Your name is Okollu?”
The kur-surus nodded in silence.
“Then listen to me carefully, Okollu. Tobias and Khin appear to trust you, so—for the time being—I will treat you with the respect and courtesy I would offer any guest. Do not give me reason to change my mind. Am I clear?”
Okollu growled quietly, “Yes.”
“Good,” said the duchess with a decisive nod. “Now, everyone inside, please. Whatever else needs to be said should be done in private. And out of this blasted chill.” Without waiting for a response, she spun around and began to move toward a pair of doors in the walls, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.
Lady Vivienne and Nundle turned to follow almost immediately. Broedi was about to as well, when Jak came closer, advancing to stand beside his brother.
Tobias stared up at Jak and his bandages and asked, “What in the Nine Hells happened to you?”
Brushing aside the question, Jak repeated Nikalys’ earlier query.
“Where’s Kenders?”
“She is with Tiliah in Demetus.”
The Isaac brothers were stunned silent, and rightly so.
Broedi rumbled, “Then you found Zecus’ family?”
Tobias shook his head, saying, “Only her and only because they were carrying that.” He nodded at the leather pouch in Broedi’s hand.
“Hold a moment,” muttered Jak. “Tiliah was—” he glanced at Rhohn and Okollu “—with them?”
Rhohn answered, “It is a long, almost impossible tale. One I will be happy to share once I am inside.”
“But she is safe?” asked Nikalys. “Unhurt?”
“When she left this morning, she was fine,” said Tobias with a frown. “And assuming she does nothing to alert the Constables in Demetus, she should remain so.”
Something inside of Broedi twitched. Thonda’s sixth sense.
A worried scowl spread over his face.
Chapter 45: Refugees
The overpowering stench of unwashed filth climbed inside of Kenders’ nose, seemingly determined to take up permanent residence. With each reluctant breath she drew, the grimace on her face deepened. The rotten stench in the marshes was better than this.
A sea of grimy, dirt-streaked faces surrounded her. Families huddled together like clumps of muddy leaves on a creek bank after a flood. Using pine branches, rags, and ripped canvas, some had attempted to erect shelters, but the structures were pitiful looking. Most people simply sat or lay in the open, exposed to nature’s whim, so beaten down by misery that few lifted their gazes as she rode past.
With her lips pressed together and a scowl on her face, Kenders shook her head in disgust. Fate had been overtly cruel to these people. Their homes were gone, their lands invaded, their lives ruined. Three mumbled words slipped from her mouth unbidden.
“This is wrong.”
Sitting tall in Goshen’s saddle, Tiliah glanced over and whispered, “’Wrong’ is much too sweet a word.” Her tone was bitter and harsh, understandably so.
“Where are all of these people going to go?” asked Kenders. She was sure to keep her voice low so only Tiliah could hear her. “What are they going to do?”
With a slow shake of her head, the Borderlander said, “I was hoping you might have an answer.”
At least two thousand people were in this area alone, the third encampment Tiliah and Kenders had visited today and the smallest by far. The marshes surrounding Demetus provided only so many scattered chunks of dry land where people could rest. Strips of well-trodden land meandered between islands of refugees.
“How many camps like this are there?” asked Kenders.
Tiliah shrugged.
&nb
sp; “Hard to say. More than when I left, though. Many more.”
Kenders sighed and returned to scanning the crowd, doing her best to find a trio of faces she had never seen. She prayed the familial resemblance of mother and the two younger siblings was as clear as Tiliah’s was to Zecus.
“Have you seen anyone you recognize? Anyone from Drysa?”
“No,” muttered Tiliah. “Nobody.”
Kenders glanced to her left, eyeing Tiliah. Considering everything that had happened to her, the young woman, only a year older than Kenders, was holding up extremely well. After the first bout of tears in the pine grove yesterday, Tiliah pulled herself together and immediately began interrogating Kenders, asking all the questions one would expect. Kenders was honest with Tiliah and shared everything. To her great surprise, Tiliah accepted every word of her tale without challenge.
Tobias and Khin led their combined group of six back to their original camp atop another Marshland hill. There, they waited for Zecus and Boah to return while taking turns exchanging stories. Only then did Kenders understand Tiliah’s easy acceptance of her tale earlier on.
The sun had been absent from the sky for a long time when Boah and Zecus eventually rode into camp. As Zecus moved into the ring of light cast from the campfire, Tiliah leapt from the ground and ran towards his horse. Zecus jumped from his saddle, rushing forward to hug his sister. The pair embraced for a long time, standing to the one side. Everyone—Kenders included—left them alone. Even the mongrel had been exceedingly respectful.
Once they rejoined the group—and after repeated assurances that Okollu was friend, not foe—Zecus, with Boah’s help, shared their day’s experiences in Demetus. The refugee count had tripled since Zecus had left. Great encampments of soldiers dotted the western and northern areas around the city, the gold and blue of the Southern Arms mixing with the green and white of the Reed Men. There were even a few detachments of the Long Coast’s Shore Guard. Forces were amassing, evidently expecting an attack on Demetus.
Following a meager dinner of hard goat cheese and water, the group had set to determining their next step. Khin, who had remained typically silent throughout the day and evening, announced that he and Tobias must return to Storm Island in the morning. Kenders assumed it had something to do with the strange stone of Void, but any attempt to inquire as to the nature of the black gem was met with utter silence.
