Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  It crouched, a paw-hand making a fist which grasped the hilt with ease, though it looked tiny in his furry fist. With quick flicks the cat sliced a hunk of meat from a leg of deer and skewered it. The cat nodded and held the dagger and meat out to him.

  Ivin stood, cautious strides taking him closer. He stopped just outside of the man’s reach, a breath before reaching to take the weapon back. Raw meat and bloody. “Thank you.” He took the deer between his teeth and pulled it from the blade, chewing. He’d never eaten raw meat before, and he couldn’t say he enjoyed it, but better eating than eaten. He smiled and gave the man a nod.

  The great feline head bobbed, and he smiled, incisors damned near as long as Ivin’s pinky. A claw popped from his left index finger, hooked a piece of meat, and with a claw from his right hand, he sliced a larger hunk of venison with the same precision as the dagger. Beneath all that fur must be a hand similar to Ivin’s own. “Nostrolum.” He spoke with a peculiar gravel to his voice that reminded Ivin of a growl, but his speech was clear, unlike the Colok. The man popped the meat in his mouth, making quick work before swallowing.

  “Nostrolum?”

  The cat tapped his own chest. “Nostrolum.”

  “Ivin Choerkin.”

  “Ivin Choerkin. Kae.” Nostrolum gestured to the deer.

  Ivin stuck the dagger into the meat, carved a small piece. “I hope this makes us friends.” He popped the meat into his mouth and smiled before taking a seat.

  Meliu sputtered and coughed, spitting the water men forced down her throat, but she feared she swallowed enough to deny her prayers. She struggled in their grips, but one grabbed her feet, and they carried her.

  “Careful with our precious guest.”

  Three men hauled her into the cabin and bound her hands and feet before sitting her upright on the divan which had been her bed. Loduma dismissed them with a flick of his wrist, taking his seat behind the desk. He appraised her, but she wasn’t sure if the man was measuring her threat level or value.

  “He told me not to trust a shittin’ Ar-Bdein.”

  “So it is. So it is. A man should hold his trust tighter than his gold.”

  “I’m not a virgin.”

  “Voices speak otherwise. Days in the Raspberry without bedding a man you fancy? With a man who fancies you? And what kind of man wouldn’t?”

  “We’re… friends.”

  “I’ve no doubt, considering the risks you took.”

  A Tek head poked through the door, laughing, speaking in Thonian. She feared the worst. She waited for the door to close. “He’s dead.”

  Loduma laughed, but it felt as dark as some of her prayers. “This Ivin Choerkin is a surprising fellow. No, instead of being eaten, he dines with the Ilu-Silvstro.”

  “He what?”

  “Raw. What kind of man does that?”

  Raw deer or the cooked rat beneath the whorehouse in Inster, she figured she’d take the bloody and uncooked. “What kind of man puts another into a cage to die?”

  He stood with a shrug and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “When first I saw you, I thought you just another northern refugee, like hundreds of others, like one who undoubtedly carried the disease into Bdein. Why the Bishop ever… She deserves what she has wrought.”

  Funny, that the truth might be more literal than this man imagined. “You knew just by seeing me?”

  “I suspected, but you spoke Hidreng so well few would notice. I myself wasn’t certain of what my eyes told me. I’ve spent more time on Kaludor than most Hidreng, so I had my suspicions.” He sat, sipped. “When I first saw you in the street, covered in grime and filth I passed you by with little thought, it didn’t matter what people you were from. Then I hear of Ulbor’s daughter dropping foreign silver and gold at the Raspberry, and I think, I should get to know the daughter of a man who I’ve never known to have children. Leastwise, none he ever claimed. And there, smelling like a Hokandite flower, but even more beautiful, is the street child I saw two days before.”

  “You’ve keen eyes.”

  “I haven’t survived as an Ar-Bdein by being a fool. Faces have value.”

  “Unfortunate the Turgin missed you.”

  “Missed? No, they found me. But, I’ve wished they killed me more than a few times.” He sipped, slipping into some thought. She prayed in silence, but no power came. “My family’s time came to its natural end, refusing to make the right friends. I made the right friends.”

  “You betrayed your uncle?”

  “I survived my uncle, but reaping the benefits cost me my soul.” His fingers drummed the table. “Such a beauty, it is tempting to keep you for myself. But I need gold, and I need the favors of Thon, more than I’d enjoy you.”

  She passed her gaze over the valuables littering the room. “Wealth doesn’t seem an issue.”

  “This? These things are all that make me Ar-Bdein, except for my blood. Selling these things, I would lose such face as to be a merchant for true instead of… whatever I am. The Ar-Bdein who happens to buy and sell?” He drank and sucked the liquor between his teeth.

  She considered the gems she kept hidden, but buying her freedom was a desperate fantasy. “If you knew for so long, why not take us earlier?”

  A brow arched. “What, drag you into the street?”

  “Once aboard.”

  “I needed to be sure I purged any Turgin spies from my boat. The Bishop, too, has eyes everywhere. My crew was two lighter come this morning, bringing an end to our game.”

  She sighed, cursing herself for a cocky fool. Maybe the Dark had addled her mind after all. “What game do you play next?”

  “None you will live to see to its end.”

  “There’s no way you’ll take the city back.”

  His dark stare suggested she struck the nail, but his words implied otherwise. “You continue to believe yourself smart.”

  “Because I am. What if I helped you take the city back?”

  He held her eyes with a measured stare, and she refused to look away. “Why would I want a pestilence ridden city? But you will help me, with the gold and favors your maidenhood will fetch.” He stood and strolled to the door. “Priests have been known to take a fancy to virgins and keep them for their own. For a time. With your face, your northern hair, you could be a lucky one.”

  “Ar-Bdein.” He turned. “Ivin survived. He’s going to kill you.”

  “I’ve already lived more years than I expected… or intended.” He bowed and stepped through the door, closing it with a gentle click.

  “That’s one peculiar son of a bitch.”

  She huffed, casting her eyes about. The room was filled with a variety of things, some might even be useful. Burning through her bindings came to mind, but the lanterns were covered and hung too high. Same for an old sword on the wall behind the desk. The way her bindings bit her skin, hope without prayer was scant.

  The gods had favored her before, but whatever Loduma’d given her behaved like Cloud Water, disrupting her connection with the pantheon. She stared at the bindings gripping her ankles and prayed for Fire. Even a trickle of energy might weaken the cord to break, but the gods didn’t answer.

  Meliu flipped her feet onto the divan and curled onto her side, closing her eyes to rest. When the gods answered, she’d kill the bastard herself.

  37

  Spilling Shadows

  Seed cast, a word spoken,

  a dance interrupted, a word broken.

  What lies? What truths?

  Dice cast, a number spoken,

  a dance eternal, a number broken,

  the laughter in the screams, truth’s token.

  –Tomes of the Touched

  It took seven days to reach the mouth of the Oemindi Pass, and in all those candles Solineus couldn’t pry a peep from Inslok to clarify his words. They passed through the Ambush Chokes, where Rinold said they’d attacked the band of priests coming south from the lakes. So much had happened since, that it all felt like ancient history. />
  Which made what he saw next living history.

  As they crested a rise and gazed down a long a slope, four teams of tundra wolves pulling sleds appeared. The woodkin drew weapons, but Solineus held up his hand. “Friends.”

  Or so he hoped. But it didn’t take long to spot Zjin’s leopard patterned fur. The sled eased to a stop, wolves panting with steaming breaths. Zjin dismounted. “Solineus.” The growl was long, but shortening his name would call him a god.

  “Zjin, by the heavens, good to see you.”

  The Colok’s head bobbed. “Girl. Dream you here.”

  “Girl? A woman in your dreams?” The Lady had visited Iku one night, anything was possible. But the answer was more surprising.

  “Eliles.”

  “Finding us wasn’t luck at all.”

  The Colok shook his head with a toothy grin. “Lucky, no lucky.”

  “Did she show you anything else? Say anything?”

  “Istinjoln.” He shrugged.

  “Any changes you’ve seen? In the mountains or Istinjoln?”

  Zjin’s lip twitched above an incisor. “No worth time to say.”

  Solineus chuckled. “The Shadows still arrive? Still Taken in Istinjoln? Have you seen the Queen at the gate?”

  Zjin nodded twice, then shook his head. “Watch. Not so close.”

  “Understood.” Solineus turned to the remaining party. “You know Rinold, of course. Zjin, this here is Inslok, an Edan from the Eleris Edan. Glimdrem, Lumnol, Nilustro, Bensevu, Henmet, and Havinlero, Trelelunin, also from the Eleris Edan.”

  The Colok grunted with a nod, and Solineus doubted he was impressed.

  “Could you take us to Istinjoln Monastery?”

  Zjin gestured to the sleds, and Solineus climbed aboard Zjin’s with Rinold close behind.

  The Squirrel said, “No way the hells I’m sittin’ with a woodkin, so you better get used to how I smell.”

  “My nose is so froze I doubt I’d smell you if you shit your britches.”

  Inslok meandered down the line of wolves, stroking their heads, something Solineus never had an urge to do. But the hells if they didn’t tolerate the bastard’s touch. “Impressive beasts, quite beautiful.”

  Zjin asked, “Edan close gate?”

  Inslok met Zjin’s eyes. “No, but if I gain some understanding of what we face, someday we might help you and the Silone rid Kaludor of this affliction.”

  “Good.”

  Inslok stepped to an empty sled and climbed aboard, and for a flicker Solineus thought he might ride the damned thing standing, but he sat.

  Colok bellowed, wolves surged, and their bodies rocked as the sleds horseshoed in a tight arc before heading south into the Omindi.

  The air grew warmer by evening as they descended from the mountains, which is to say Solineus didn’t fear his eyelids freezing open for the first time in weeks, but removing a glove still numbed the fingers in flickers.

  The Colok drove their wolves east once out of the Estertok Mountains, and a candle or two after dark they holed up in a cave Rinold said the Wardens had kept stocked for outings. With fire and a hot meal, they slept better than the day had promised as it began.

  But as a being who didn’t sleep, Inslok awoke them before dawn without even a hint of sorry for waking them. The Trelelunin ate and threw on their gear with crisp discipline. Except Glimdrem; not a soldier, he went about the dark morning at a more human speed, but he didn’t grumble or cuss like the Squirrel.

  “Godsdamn. I was just dreamin’ of Puxele in my bed, you bastards.” No one gave a care, and Rinold resigned himself to a meal by the fire, plopping beside Solineus. “What ya think we’re gonna find?”

  The eye of the Fire Lion had passed, but Solineus had never believed something so easy would end the gate. “Much the same as we left it, I expect.” The question that haunted his dreams the night before prodded his conscious mind: Did Dareun’s ghost still reside within those walls?

  “How many Shadows, you think, might’ve slipped through that damned gate the past weeks? A thousand?”

  Solineus stood and wiped his mouth, pulled on his gloves, and grabbed his bedroll. “Don’t matter how many godsdamned Shadows, so long as we starve them of bodies to take. With our friends here, the Taken are all we have to worry about.”

  “I like your optimism friend, but you’re the one with two blades to kill the sons of bitches. Let me touch one.” A horseshitter’s grin dimpled his cheeks, and his eye twitched.

  Solineus pressed the latch on his harness and the Twins fell to his hips. He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Rinold licked his lips. “You serious?”

  “Are you?”

  Rinold’s head bobbed in a silent chuckle and he reached for a hilt, but his hand stopped short. “Not today!” He jumped to his feet and went to his bed to roll it.

  Inslok spoke in Solineus’ left ear, damned near startling his heart to a stop. “He made a wise choice.”

  He turned, calm as he could with his heart thumping. “I have this notion you know more about the Twins than you’re sayin’.”

  Glimdrem’s voice came to his right ear, but at least he’d know someone was approaching. “You will find the Edan always know more than they are saying, but most times, it’s because they deem their knowledge useless to the situation.”

  Inslok appeared to consider the assessment. “That is often so.”

  Solineus sighed. “You should consider letting someone else decide if what you know is worthless.”

  “Perhaps you are correct. But not now. We have a journey ahead.”

  Inslok strode outside, and Solineus watched as he conversed with Zjin. Glimdrem slapped Solineus on the shoulder.

  “In my world, we call that a win. Don’t bother thanking me.” He chuckled and walked away.

  Rinold approached, bedroll in hand. “Guess it’s time to find out what kinda welcome the monastery holds.”

  They reached Istinjoln as the sun sat atop the horizon, igniting a yellow and orange morning, and the Colok guided the sleds to a high overlook. They stopped to drink and stare at the view of their destination. The beam of light still rose with its blackened core, and Istinjoln’s gates stood open, for all the world appearing at peace, but he saw nothing moving. Its high walls were empty, same for the tops of the towers. With snow covering damned near every foot, he figured it’d be nigh on impossible for a Shadow to move around without being seen. One thing for certain, whatever lived in Istinjoln now didn’t bother with removing drifts.

  He glanced to Inslok, who stood gazing at the monastery from his sled. “You see anything?”

  “A shadow, but I could not be certain whether it was a Shadow of Man, or cast by Taken.”

  “Any prints in the snow?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  Rinold strode back to the sled, adjusting his trousers and gear after relieving himself. “I’m afraid I’d be an optimistic fool to suggest all them bastards left.”

  Inslok pointed. “A Shadow there, in the courtyard.”

  Solineus squinted. “Can’t see a damned thing with the sun and glare.” Yeah, glare, not his feeble human eyes failing him.

  Rinold climbed aboard. “At least there ain’t no army of Taken waiting for us. Where we can see ‘em anyways.”

  Solineus craned his neck further, catching sight of Glimdrem and the twist to his lips. “See trouble?”

  Glimdrem shook the nervous grin from his face. “The light, it is powerful. So similar to the Vale of Resting Winds.”

  Inslok asked, “It is?”

  “Yes. I assumed it would be, but seeing it now… different, but similar. I would never have thought to see a second in my lifetime.”

  Solineus kept the vision he’d had in Istinjoln to himself. “I always planned on seeing this one a second time. However many times it takes to close the thing.”

  The sleds navigated down the steep slope at an awkward angle, and within a quarter candle brought them to the base of the ro
ad winding to Istinjoln’s gate. Windswept stone greeted them, the road a dark streak in a white world. A dark road to a dark place.

  Solineus stepped from the sled, turning to Zjin. “You don’t have to come with us.”

  The Colok shrugged. “One. Two.” He stepped from the back of the sled, growling to his people. A second Colok Solineus recognized, but whose name he didn’t know, joined them. “We come. Other, stay wolves.”

  Inslok glided to their sides. “Shall we?”

  Solineus hit the clasp on his harness, and the Twins dropped to his hips. He touched their hilts, listening to and appreciating their soft murmurs. He nodded toward the road and they set out with long strides. By the time they reached the monastery’s gates he realized he hadn’t appreciated the distance the road wound when riding on back of Ilpen’s wagon.

  They stood silent outside the gaping maw with its steel-fanged portcullis, listening to the utter silence of a windless morning in a dead place.

  Ruins were nothing new to Glimdrem. Sutan was a continent overgrown with steaming jungle and infested by blood-thirsty insects, but so too did ancient cities, fortresses, and temples speckle the mountains and valleys. Most hid beneath decades, or even centuries, of growth, but seeing them empty and lifeless felt natural. Not that anyplace was ever without life on Sutan, bugs and snakes made certain of that, but there had been a sense of time passed.

  Istinjoln Monastery didn’t feel dead, but it looked that way. There was nothing right about it, with that unnerving pillar of light reaching for the sky.

  He pulled a hunting sword from its sheath, and everybody glanced at him. “I’m more prepared this time.” He’d trained with a multitude of weapons for the past five hundred years, but not so much that he gained confidence in his abilities. The little man, Rinold, nocked an arrow, giving Glimdrem a nod of agreement. Humans were strange sorts, but they possessed… what would a person call it? Entertainment value. He smiled back. That is exactly it.

  Inslok took the lead through the broad tunnel into the main courtyard. Snow unmarked by passing feet sat ankle high as they walked, but against the walls and buildings, drifts piled higher than their heads.