Red Season Rising

by D. M. Murray

  “Major Merkham, welcome.” Harruld approached from beside the window and clasped hands with the two men. “How come you’re here so soon? I only sent word a few days ago. Can’t say I was expecting you here for well over a week.”

  “Lord Abbonan managed to get word to us at Hardalen from Terna. I’m guessing after Captain’s Kalfinar and Broden made it to Terna with their reports. Once Commander Lucius heard of assassinations of senior-ranked officers, he locked himself in his chambers and relinquished his command at Hardalen to me.” Major Merkham reached inside his long, heavy travel coat and pulled out a small, red leather envelope. “Here’s his letter resigning his commission.”

  “Accepted,” Harruld said simply as he tossed the envelope onto the pile of papers on his desk. “Been wanting that for some time. So where is the little crow now?”

  “Well, after we received Lord Abbonan’s command to withdraw from Hardalen—”

  “Excellent,” Harruld interrupted. “Glad to see Abbonan and I were thinking along the same lines. Sorry, Major, carry on please.”

  “My Lord, after we received the command to abandon Hardalen, we readied the garrison. Commander Lucius had locked himself into his chambers and refused to come out. He claimed he was safer in there than on the journey to Terna, or even in the cities themselves.”

  “So what did you do?” Harruld asked.

  Merkham looked across at Subath, whose eye was twitching less as his calm returned.

  The rough, old sergeant cleared his throat and spoke, “Well, My Lord, we, um, we left him where he wanted to be left. Far as I’m aware, he’s still cowering in his chambers. Reckon he’ll be a bit cold and hungry by now, mind you. Might be that’ll prompt him to make his way down to Terna.”

  Harruld blinked open-mouthed, momentarily. “Well, no point crying over Lucius. The man was a hindrance; a bloody pompous little arse. You both being here now is fortunate. I sent orders to Abbonan directing the garrison be stripped and half of the men sent here. How many of you have come to Carte?”

  “Just over half of the garrison, My Lord,” Merkham answered.

  “Good.”

  “And we’ve several detachments from Abbonan’s ranks, as well as twelve of naval coastal patrollers. Just in case the Solansian’s lost fleet turns up.”

  Harruld smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’m going to give that man a kiss the next time I see him!” Harruld exclaimed.

  “Might be you’ll be doing that sooner than you think, My Lord,” Subath grumbled as his attention was drawn by the groaning guard on the floor near the study door.

  “How so?”

  Subath stepped over to the concussed guard. “He’s been doing a bit of planning himself,” he said as he hauled the groggy man up by the oxters. Subath bent over, picked up the dented helmet, and handed it to the guard. “Warned you, boy,” he said with a smile and then closed the study door. “Lord Abbonan’s reckoning on there being some kind of attack from Solansia. He thinks that there’s little gain in attacking Terna, and, if anything, the hit’s going to come from the borderlands in the east, where they can attack quickly. If word comes to Terna quick from you, Lord Abbonan said he’ll send the majority of his men and leave a skeleton force in Terna. He even said he’ll come himself.”

  “He did, did he?” Harruld asked, his eyebrows raised high, wrinkling his forehead.

  “Aye,” Subath grumbled. “But you can read that yourself. He wrote it all down in a letter for you, in case we banged our heads on the voyage and forgot it all.” Subath grinned, his wolfish smile managing to look vicious and good-natured at the same time.

  “Dajda, Subath,” Harruld laughed. “You should’ve bloody told me.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Subath laughed. “Now, can we dispense with the lord’s and sir’s? No one about to see me take the piss out of you now, eh?” The old warrior reached over and clapped the governor around the shoulder.

  “Aye, alright, you old bastard,” Harruld laughed, relieved at the fortunate return of his two colleagues, his two friends. “And thanks for looking after my boy at Hardalen. He was looking better.”

  *

  The spirit soared above the man-things as they ran. The searcher and his companions entered a building for a moment and then left, followed by two more. One was a child of the spirit’s master, though it could see the soul was wretched, and fractured husk now beyond the Master’s love. It would be destroyed, the spirit would see to that, and the Master would be pleased.

  Something odd struck the spirit as it tracked the man-things progress through the alleyways. There was a faint light within one below. Glimpses, blinks of warm light, unseen by the spirit until the man-things left the house. A light of life, unfamiliar to the spirit; a light of love.

  More flashes from below. The spirit swooped in, slow and careful, closing the distance, wary not to get too close. Sniffing the air, the spirit got a vague sense there was something different down there running with the man-things. The sense was not strong. The spirit needed to be closer.

  Again, distance was closed, but the spirit was cautious not to arouse the senses of the female, the one with the unusual power: the touch of the Liar God. That one was dangerous, the spirit thought as it hovered over them, sniffing the air, tasting at the scent as it rose. Another being was with them, being carried by the female. The light flashed free from whatever obscured it momentarily, showing itself for what it was for but a second.

  The spirit shrieked, fleeing skyward, screaming upwards from the creature of light.

  *

  “What’s that?” Broden asked as the dreadful shriek sounded above them, trailing off into the darkness.

  Chentuck made a sign of protection over his chest as the sound died off. Kalfinar looked skyward before his eyes settled back on Evelyne. Her lips moved as she looked in amongst the wrap of blankets at the girl.

  “Evelyne,” Kalfinar interrupted. “The spirit.”

  She broke her attention away from the child and faced the group. “Yes. The spirit follows still.” She looked down at the small girl in her arms. “I think we have her to thank for frightening it off.”

  Kalfinar stepped over to the child. He pulled back a fold of blanket and peered into the small girl’s face. As usual, she appeared to be in the deepest of peaceful sleeps. “The child frightened it off.” Kalfinar asked.

  “Yes, her radiance has been awoken.”

  Broden wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “As long as she can keep scaring it off, I’m happy.” He looked at the back of his hand, grimaced, and flung the gathered sweat onto the ground. “Assuming it’ll come again,” he added.

  “It’ll come,” Kalfinar said in a low growl, his eyes locked on Evelyne’s.

  “Yes,” she half-whispered. “It will come again, if it can. And it will bring others, if it can take them.” She held his gaze.

  “What is this that follows you? This spirit?” Ohasha asked.

  “It is the creature of one who would do us harm. It works against our objective and so it works against yours. We have little time.” Kalfinar turned his attention to Evelyne. “What do you feel?” he asked. “Is the Horn getting farther away?”

  “The distance grows,” she answered. The twitch in her eyes betrayed the strain. “The distance stretches slow and steady. I feel much fear.”

  “They’re leaving the harbour,” Broden grunted. “Doubt they’ve been able to set their sail good and proper yet.”

  “Come, we must hurry,” Rondo urged. The small man was eager to make progress, rather than linger about the alleyways of his home city as the raiders murdered and robbed all around them. “If we’re to take the Father of the People’s ship, we’re going to need a crew.”

  “Raiders abound at sea. We’ll need a crew who are used to dealing with such men. A crew who don’t mind the stink of blood on them,” Ohasha said as she flashed a hungry smile. “I’m the only one in possession of such a crew.”

 
Kalfinar nodded. “Suppose it’s time we paid your crew a visit. Best get moving. We can’t let them get too far ahead of us.”

  *

  They navigated their route through the alleys and streets, hiding in shadows to avoid any passing raiders or sounds of conflict. Soon, they found themselves in front of a small wooden door, about the height of a child. A curious symbol was painted in rude strokes into the top right corner of the door frame.

  Ohasha approached and knocked a set routine. The wait dragged on, with Ohasha growing more agitated with every passing moment. “I’ll string that husk up, if he doesn’t—”

  Then a voice spoke in Cannan and a small hatch opened up on the door from where none appeared to exist. A pair of eyes peered out from within.

  Ohasha responded in her native tongue, her words rapid and with a clear edge to them.

  The sounds of bolts sliding free could be heard outside before a stunted man with small arms and legs stepped out. The man wore a long beard that stretched down towards the belly of his shirt. Kalfinar noted many small smoulder marks on the man’s shirt. An absent recognition rang in his head. There was a glaze to the man’s eyes and a familiar smell lingering in the air.

  Ohasha led them beyond the cramped reception chamber and through dark lit hallway to a staircase. Several large candle tapers sat in metal rings lining the wall, casting an amber glow about them.

  “Follow me,” Ohasha said as she headed down the stone cut spiral staircase, a glowing torch in hand.

  That smell. What is it about this place?

  Something struck a chord within Kalfinar. The core of his stomach dropped and his arse felt like it was about to expel itself, such was the cold, hard realisation. A grip of clammy panic ran through his scalp, swelled in his armpits, prickled at his hands, and stung out of his fingertips. Panic.

  There you are, old friend. It’s been so long, too long apart. Yes, there you are.

  Kalfinar’s mind reeled as his cold, sweaty palm traced the rough spiralling staircase, following the flickering orange light and the warping, stretching shadows cast by Ohasha’s torch.

  Down, deeper into the abyss. Down, deeper, down. Back to the smoke.

  Kalfinar gritted his teeth. A weight pulled at his bowels. Fear. He strained and squeezed a panicked moan, drowned out by the slapping of boots on stone. Sweat beaded and rolled down his face. Still, he followed the others deeper down.

  There you are. Smoke and blood, whores and mud.

  *

  Ohasha entered the large chamber where several dozen of her people busily worked. Money and valuables were weighed, orders assigned, and grievances aired. She cleared her throat and a ripple of attention spread throughout the room. “The Mother of the People is dead. Murdered by raiders.”

  Silence, save for Kalfinar’s heavy breathing.

  In the flickering light of the braziers and candles, mouths hung open.

  Ohasha’s massive guard, Agurk, visibly sagged at the news. His broad shoulders dropped a little and a strangled sob escaped from his throat.

  “The Daughter of the People has been kidnapped.” Ohasha snapped the words, urgency tightening her throat. “We have a ship, the Father of the Peoples, but we need a crew to get her back.”

  The tears in Agurk’s one eye grew large. They burst free from his long lashes and splashed onto the ground before him. His eye narrowed and he dashed away his sadness, a sharp resolve framed his face and his voice broke the stillness between them, “These men must die, every last one of them.”

  Rondo spoke, “We need enough to man the ship and enough to protect it too.”

  “And we shall have them,” Ohasha said. “Who will join me at sea again and spill our revenge upon the waves?”

  Evelyne placed a gentle hand on Kalfinar’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Kal, the distance is growing. We need to be quick.”

  He heard her, but the words didn’t register. He looked up at Evelyne and into those ice-blue eyes. But all he saw was the worry.

  And the pipe.

  *

  Broden strode at the head of the large body of armed crew as they marched through the Nabruuk streets. Evidence of the raiders’ work was all around. Fires raged at random points and, on several occasions, bodies lay in the streets. They walked up the straight promenade alongside the harbour-front, approaching the Father of the People’s private dock. The main host of the raiders had departed, leaving only the injured in Nabruuk. When encountered, the crew dispatched them with ruthless efficiency.

  Broden grumbled towards Kalfinar, “Guess they don’t have the stomach when the opponent holds a sword, eh?”

  No reply. Not even a customary grunt.

  Broden looked around. Kalfinar was not in the group, that he could see, at least. He budged past Chentuck, who walked beside Evelyne. “Have any of you seen Kal?”

  They looked around at the faces of the Cannan men and women. There were hardened faces, some scarred and brutal, others warped with a hungry vengeance. But none of them Kalfinar.

  “Haven’t seen him since we left Ohasha’s chamber,” Chentuck spoke.

  “I saw him,” Rondo said. “On the stairs, up to the street. He was talking to the doorman.”

  “Where in the darkness is he?” Broden stared all around him. “You carry on towards the ship. I’ll find him.”

  “I’ll come too,” Chentuck said.

  “No, stay with Evelyne and the child,” Broden said before turning and pushing through the flow of bodies, searching for his cousin. As the big man broke through the last rank of bodies, he saw a familiar shape run around the corner of the last street they had come down.

  The group had moved onto the dock by the time Kalfinar approached Broden. Kalfinar placed his hands on his knees and heaved at his breath, risking a glance at Broden glowering down at him.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Broden demanded.

  Kalfinar sucked a deep breath and straightened up. “Sorry,” he said, his palms held up in contrition. “Thought I saw someone following us.”

  Broden’s face did not shift a whisker.

  “Thought I’d check it out.”

  “Couldn’t you at least have told us you were going?” His brows knitted in the middle and his forehead wrinkled. “Fuck!” he spat.

  “Sorry,” Kalfinar apologised. “Guess I didn’t think.”

  “No you didn’t.” Broden huffed out a heavy breath. “Come on, we’d best catch up.”

  They ran towards the dock as the few remaining members party made their way inside.

  As he ran alongside Kalfinar, Broden glanced across. “So, were we?”

  “Were we what?” Kalfinar asked, looking confused.

  “Were we being followed?” Broden asked again, the slightest frown cutting his face.

  “Um, no. I think it was just my eyes playing tricks on me is all.”

  “Tricks, aye,” Broden grumbled. “Eyes will do that in the dark.” He glanced at Kalfinar as they reached the dock and slowed down. Are my eyes playing tricks on me, cousin? “Come on, let’s get inside.”

  They joined the rest of their party in boarding the Father of the People’s ship, ready to pursue the Horn as it sped across the Canna Sea.

  *

  The spirit soared high above the sea, watching as the ship cut through the oily sheen of the water below. Fear gripped at it as it watched. Certain of its task, the spirit was aware that below, amongst the scurrying flesh on that ship, was a creature of terrible strength, one the Master would see destroyed. The female one held it, the imperfect creature, one of the liar Dajda’s children. It had seen the spirit, it knew it was near, and the fear grew in the spirit as it soared above, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

  The man-thing’s ship cut through the waves of the black sea, bearing down on a small flotilla. The spirit heard shouts and cries of dashing man-things, the pathetic little beasts, as they went about their frantic business; nothing like panic, alarm, fear, and blood to offer the spirit
its chance.

  The female, the powerful one, would be distracted. She would not be able to prevent the spirit from closing in on the child of the weak Canna god. She would not be able to stop the spirit from taking the little man-thing’s soul and lashing out at the searcher, at the female, the traitor’s, and the child of Dajda.

  Oh, what a gift that would be to the Master. Such a service would see the spirit regain the Master’s love and it would, once more, sit at the Master’s right-hand side, trusted and enveloped in embrace. What a gift indeed.

  *

  The ship rose and plummeted as waves crashed against its prow. The light in the cabin below deck swayed and rolled unpredictably, causing Broden’s stomach to roll and churn like the sea. He puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes at Evelyne, who smiled as she sat rocking the child in her arms.

  “Will she sleep like that all the time?” the big man asked, trying to distract himself from the nausea and cheesy, slippery taste in his mouth.

  Evelyne smiled and brushed the small girl’s curly hair from her forehead. “She wakens when she wishes. When she is ready.”

  “Seems like a handy thing that, sleeping through sea travel.” He smiled and rubbed his churning stomach.

  “Where’s Kalfinar?” Evelyne asked.

  “He said he was going to get some air. He’s not been looking great,” Broden answered with a cringe. “Might be feeling a bit sick himself.”

  “Well, we’d better get him,” Evelyne said while closing her eyes shut. “We’re getting close. The Horn is near. We need his eyes.”

  “I’ll fetch him.” Broden stood up and with a reluctant sigh, stepped out of the cabin and towards the steps that led up.

  *

  “Kal!” Broden shouted from the last steps before the deck. “Damn it, Kal,” he muttered to himself as he looked down the stairs towards the cabins below and then back to the dimly lit deck, “you know I hate coming up here, you bastard.”