“Making two ropes.” She hit him with her “you’re a dumb ass” smile he knew so well. “Look, we could slip down this rope straight to the ground, then what? We’re dead, that’s what.”
Ivin sat up, folding his legs. “I’m in your hands.”
“That you are, and don’t forget it. Will your guards be back this evening?”
“Aye, we enjoy a beating and lantern-lit dining every day about sundown.”
She glanced to the sun, then reached into her pack. He snagged jerked beef from her grip, and couldn’t help but think of the Wolverine as he gnawed off a chunk. “So, what happened at Inster?”
“Well, Sedut saved your ass for me, as you know… Then, we all marched quick as we might to the East. Which is to say slower than Jedub picking his way across the Road of Living Stars.” The rope snapped in twain, and she smiled. “Iro and a Hidreng army caught up to us, a few horizons beyond the village of Jimar, and were about to slaughter us when Solineus brought a couple Edan and ended the war that wasn’t.”
“An army of Edan?”
“As I said… a couple. Two. Apparently twice as many as needed.”
“Just because I was talking to a stool doesn’t mean I’ll step into every web you weave.”
“I’m not Feduul’s Spider, I assure you. That Edan put an arrow through a priest’s throat from about a half horizon away. Beautiful fletchings, peacock feathers, shame to stain them red.”
“How far away?” He took the short section of rope from her proferred hand.
“Hold this and I’ll be right back.” She slipped through the trapdoor and landed light on her feet, disappearing to the west. A couple wicks later she reappeared, and he dropped his piece of rope and braced his feet as she climbed.
She closed the trapdoor and sat with a smug smile. “Now we wait.”
“For?”
“I tied the rope off, dangling from the window a level below, all the way to the ground. When they come back and find you gone?”
“They’ll think someone helped me climb. And if they bother to look up here?”
She shrugged. “You ever seen a magician make things disappear with a mirror? Well, I can do a little bit of that without the mirror. If that don’t work, well, we improvise.”
He nodded as he gnawed on the meat, salty and tender compared to his recent meals. “Two Edan?”
“Yes, sir.” Her tone was mocking, but the following words were dead serious. “Scary sons of bitches.”
“Lelishen was pretty.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say they weren’t beautiful. Eerie in their perfection, emotionless as rocks. Solineus is taking one to see some guy he called the Touched, the price for saving our people. You look like the Forges worked you over.” She rummaged through her pack, tossed him a pair of trousers and a shirt, and held up a small bottle of ebony oil. “For that hair of yours.”
He’d never imagined himself with dark hair and wondered if he’d look more like Kotin. He shook away nagging sorrow. “The Edan want to visit the Touched?”
“Whoever the hells that is.”
“Looks like we got time. Catch me up on our people and the Edan, and I’ll tell you… well, what little I know about the Touched.”
29
Hissing Tundra
The mathematics of time unwind the mind,
grind the rind, to swallow the mortal whole,
the flick the flash the dash to reason
Lost in emotion, the commotion, the locomotion
of the mathematics of Time, unwinding your mind,
abed, memories of a lost time so kind, but they’re
all you have, for every other yesterday
never existed.
–Tomes of the Touched
The Entiyu Emoño’s sails never seemed to lack wind, and the waters were free of icebergs. The entire crew got a laugh out of that one as they sailed beyond the tower of fire, or the Pontorele Jirev, as the Luxuns said. Their first plan had been to sail to the eastern shores and walk west to the Steaming Lakes before trekking down to Istinjoln. This would’ve saved at least a week of sailing, but once Rinold caught sniff of the idea he laughed.
“Winter has its grip on the Treaty Lands by now, winds out of the west. The wind at our back instead of face will make everything easier.”
Inslok next suggested landing at Choerkin Fost to head north and back down to the Fost to meet the Luxuns.
The Squirrel was none too pleased. “Shittin’ me? You wanna pass the Queen of Shadows twice, not to mention however many godsdamned Shadows and Taken in between? Sail to an Emudar town on the western shore, put the winds to our back, then pass through the hells to the Fost.”
Inslok had shrugged, and the plans changed. Solineus wasn’t certain if it was the logic, or the fact another week or two of sailing meant nothing to the Edan. They’d stop at Istinjoln on the return journey and meet the Entiyu Emoño at the Fost in two to three weeks.
They dropped anchor at a harbor-town Rinold called Slepid. Before the Shadows came it would’ve been under Emudar rule, but Solineus’ memory drew a blank. He’d hoped that returning to his homeland would trigger memories, but not a town they passed brought anything to mind.
Birds and rats were the town’s only inhabitants. Not a living soul, nor Taken, nor Shadow, made its presence known. The central square was queer and creepy in its silence. A Shadow’s scream, or a rush of Taken, might’ve lessened the dread by letting them know where they were. Instead, streets were full of a constant nothing.
They spent the first day’s travel from Slepid on a rocked road, but by the middle of day two the stones disappeared beneath ice and snow. On day three, the winds Rinold promised came.
It amazed Solineus that he’d forgotten how damned cold the tundra was, and this time there wasn’t a cozy ride in a sled with Lelishen. The winds swept in from the west, tinged with ice, which put the ferocity of the gales at their back: The Squirrel knew what he was talking about when he insisted on sailing until they came in from the west. If they’d come in from the east as the Edan wanted, their eyes might’ve frozen in their sockets by now.
They were ten days into their hike and the only change in scenery was the mountains to their east creeping past. The tundra was ice, every rise and fall much the same as another; gentle waves on an ocean captured by frigid nature.
And the only person worse off than him was the Squirrel.
Neither gust, gale, flake, nor pellet, troubled the damned woodkin. But at least the Trelelunin noticed the difference between gust and gale, between flake and pellet. It was as if every bit of nature that assailed them passed right through the Edan without effect. The bastard didn’t even wear gloves.
A powerful gust shoved Solineus, and he stumbled forward to keep his feet; at least the wind helped them make good time. His trotting strides brought him beside Glimdrem.
The Trelelunin’s smile was galling. “Regretting this bargain of yours yet?”
“No more than you are.” Brave words from frosted lips.
“I spent five years in sweltering jungles, covered in insects, searching for a city which no longer exists. Slapping away poisonous beasts. This? This, my friend, is a jaunt. We’ll be back on the mainland in a matter of weeks.”
“Hopefully I don’t leave no parts of me behind.”
Glimdrem grasped his shoulder and warmth flowed through his body; it couldn’t compare to snuggling with Lelishen, but he’d take it.
The Squirrel stepped to their sides. “You shittin’ me? I saw that.” Glimdrem smirked, touched him, and the Squirrel smiled. “Oh, godsdamn. That’s good.” Euphoria passed over the little man’s bearded face. Solineus rubbed his own beard. Shaving had been a ritual, but he’d grown accustomed to a hairy face quicker than he thought. Or, his mind conceded the need for insulation.
“You humans should speak sooner.”
Solineus said, “We humans enjoy suffering to the last.”
The Squirrel snorted. “Speak
for yerself, this human takes to warmth and comfort just fine.”
Solineus chuckled but his next step crashed through ice and he plunged as if cut off at a knee.
Glimdrem caught him fast as a blink and held him with surprising strength.
The Squirrel yelled, “Everyone stop! Foot outta there, now!”
Glimdrem lifted Solineus free without a grunt of effort. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, fine. Just a godsdamned hole.”
“There ain’t no such thing as just a hole in the tundra. Back away slow and tread soft.” Rinold dropped to his knees and shoveled loose snow blowing by, crushing it into the gap. “This melts, run. Inslok! You see anything unusual around us? Trails through the ice?”
The Edan stood thirty paces ahead, atop a rise. “On the next hill.”
“Fever snakes, son of a bitch.”
Glimdrem’s brow arched. “Snakes? Here?”
“Yeah, and you don’t want bit by one neither. Seen ‘em most times in the mountains, but here on the tundra, they live deep in the ice. But they come up to hunt… mate, maybe.”
Solineus asked, “What the hells do they eat around here?”
“I ain’t never bothered to ask. Hopefully not us.”
They glanced to the hole, the snow still packed. “What do we do now?”
“We walk slow and gentle while keeping an eye out for trails and steam… anything out of the ordinary.”
The paths the creatures left in the ice as they slithered across the snow fascinated him: Slots in the ice like the rungs of a ladder broken and off kilter. Here and there it appeared snakes gathered, melting ovals and more intricate swirling patterns.
“Fighting, or feeling frisky, you think?”
The Squirrel squinted at him. “Don’t see nothin’ dead.”
“Maybe they eat each other.”
They walked the next candle with caution, but after putting a horizon between them and the slithering tracks, their gait picked up, and Solineus relaxed, but the sense of ease dissipated in a flicker.
The Edan walked in front as always, and took a knee, his hand raised. Considering Solineus had never seen this Edan bother to sit except on a horse, it sent his heart into a flutter. Inslok motioned them forward, and pointed.
Solineus couldn’t say what he looked at: a dust devil, only snow? He squinted. “Steam? Snow?”
Inslok said, “Swirling snow.”
The Squirrel groaned. “We got the luck today. Daevu, sure as shit.”
Solineus asked, “There’s something in the snow?”
“Yeah, death.”
Inslok intoned, “More specific.”
Rinold scrunched his face in frustration and offered empty hands. “If I knew I wouldn’t be able to say, ‘cause I’d be dead.”
“Legend, rumor, anything you know.”
“Not a word. But history speaks of three clan armies fighting near the Steaming Lakes. Scouts who watched said the snows, the Daevu, attacked in a blizzard, leaving not a corpse nor drop of blood.”
“Mokotu-xe, of some sort.”
Glimdrem was incredulous, his voice pitched. “Mokotu-xe? I… no.”
Solineus knew the words: Devil Elemental, but what they meant he couldn’t say. All he needed to knew was that he should shit his britches if the creature worried the Edan. Still, the words came from his mouth. “Devil Elemental, what’s that mean?”
Glimdrem muttered, “Means we should’ve brought Lemereu, if that’s the case.”
Inslok turned his stare to Glimdrem, and the Trelelunin snapped his mouth shut. Inslok glanced at Solineus. “You know of the te-xe?”
Solineus said, “Dancing Elemental, the things followed Eliles around.”
“Te-xe are like children of pure xe. Dangerous children if riled, but innocent.”
“Except with thundersticks.” The look the Edan gave made him feel like a child himself. “Sorry. Go on.”
“Mokotu-xe are violent. Intelligent… Dangerous isn’t a word to suffice.”
He stared at the creature as it whisked across the landscape. It stopped, a plume of snow rising thirty strides above its head. A high-pitched wail surged across the tundra like a tornadic wind ripping through a valley. As the volume grew the timbre shifted into a deeper roar, then, the wail disappeared into silence sudden as death.
It didn’t move.
Rinold asked, “Do we skirt the thing? Can we?”
“What do your legends say?”
“Legends? Legends say we’re dead just seeing the damned thing. Thank you.”
Solineus said, “For all we know, it’s staring at us right now. If it has eyes. Can we fight the thing? And win, I mean.”
Inslok’s stare didn’t flinch from the creature. “Perhaps I can. This isn’t something I’ve seen in the past five hundred years.”
Glimdrem said, “Lemereu banished a din-mokotu-xe.”
“In the Age of Warlords. With runes, mystic gems, and the elements from a hundred Edan. We might survive. If there is more than one... Be pleased there is only one.” The Edan stared. “All we know about this being is… snow. Elemental Cold, Water? To what extent each?”
Solineus considered this banter useless. You’re watching us, aren’t you? He put his hands to the hilts of the twins, a rush of whispers soothing his nerves with their confidence, but then the blades muttered in unison, their voices mingling to form a single word: Pokuu. And their whispers went silent. Unholy hells: Solineus didn’t know what they’d said, but it felt like a challenge. He blinked, and when his vision returned a whirl of snow forty strides high was half way to them. By the time the Twins left their sheaths it was on them.
Snow whipped the world into a blinding white blanket, and a blast of wind lifted and threw him in a tumble. He lit and rolled to his feet; the group scattered across the terrain. Rinold lay on his back, Glimdrem sat crouched, unmoving. The other warriors too rested in various poses. Only Inslok moved, his Latcu hilted saber in his left hand and shield in his right.
It was the first time Solineus had seen the blade of the weapon; Latcu, tinted a deep sapphire blue.
He swung the Twins in a figure eight. “You bastards called the storm, you better kill it.” The Twins screamed, and he spun with blades raised in a cross.
A blur of vapor ricocheted off the blades, driving him into the ground and stealing his breath. An attack, or was that the mokotu-xe? There wasn’t time to decide. He gasped for air and rolled to see the vapor strike Rinold; the man froze in place, unable to defend himself.
Inslok leapt through the air, his shield crashing into the vapor. The Edan ricocheted from the mist, but the being surged from its attack on Rinold.
Solineus’ breaths came with a coughing struggle, and Inslok fared little better, struggling to a knee, his shield arm limp. And the vapor refocused, swirled around a Trelelunin.
The warrior’s bow disintegrated in his hand as the vapor swirled. That’s the xe, not just some magic. Solineus struggled to his feet, the voices of the twins roared in his head, deafening him to the noise of the wind.
The mokotu-xe sparkled into twirling glitters like a beautiful snowfall with the Trelelunin hidden amid the swirl. A trick of his vision and imagination, or… the woodkin’s hand disappeared as certain as his weapon.
Solineus’ feet slipped as he charged, but once he found his footing the Twins slashed into the enchanted blizzard, and a force, an arm of icy glitter struck. Solineus hit the ground and rolled, charged again even as the Trelelunin’s legs disintegrated into sparkling flakes in the sun.
From nowhere Inslok struck, his shield driving into snow more dense than the rest, his scimitar slashing, but this time the Edan and xe stood their ground. A dense swirl of snow lifted Inslok into the air. Solineus saw what Inslok aimed for: The swirling, pulsing center of this creature. Damned near invisible, but it was there.
The snowstorm raged, sleet pelting Solineus’ eyes as he rushed silent into the living blizzard, the points of the twins lead
ing. A force resisted and time itself slowed. Inslok’s face stretched in agony in the creature’s grasp while the Trelelunin disintegrated up to his waist without a fight; the tips of the Twins struck center of mass and time rushed back into reality. He hit the ground hard and fast, rolled to his back for a fight, but the blizzard disappeared in a rush to tranquility. Half a Trelelunin lay dead, but Inslok and the others were alive.
His next thought was Rinold, and Solineus slid to his side. “You good?”
The Squirrel lay curled in a shivering ball, teeth chattering. “Shit crappin’ damn.”
Glimdrem moved to his side, touching his shoulders. “He’s in one piece.”
Inslok sheathed his sword as he stood over the bloodless corpse of the Trelelunin and spoke in Edan. “Farewell, gentle brother. May the Father greet you with soothing words.” He slid his palm over Ristelu’s eyes, closing them. “Is the human able to travel?”
Glimdrem answered, “I believe so. Soon.”
Solineus stepped to Inslok’s side, staring at the body. Where the torso split in two, icy crystals covered the skin and flesh. “Ever seen anything like that?”
“Not that I remember. It’s good you have those swords, or we might all be… gone.”
His words were as cold as the tundra, as they ever were, but Solineus chose to take them as a compliment. “It’s good you pointed to its heart, only way I could see where to attack.”
The Edan’s head swiveled. “That was the Mokotu-xe, not its heart.”
“It was that godsdamned small?” It was half the size of a Rinold’s head and held so much power. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut with his intended words forgotten. His eyes darted to follow the Edan’s gaze.
Hissssshhh.
Steam rose from the tundra and a hole the size of his fist opened in the ice. “Fever snake!”
Not snake: snakes. Steam hissed and popped all around them, and something hit the back of his thigh. The serpent was five feet long, its skin ice white, but beneath beat veins of glowing red, lending the creature varying hues of pink. Its fangs gripped deep into his heavy cloak, and the tail whipped as he spun; Inslok’s sword severed the creature clean in half. Scalding blood spattered and streaked the ground with bursts of steam.
Trail of Pyres Page 26
