Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  Rinold said, “Unless you know the way to the tower, you’ll wanna let me lead.”

  Inslok acquiesced with a curt nod. “Indeed.” Funny thing was, it would surprise Glimdrem if the Edan didn’t know, or at least had a good idea after the view from the foothills, or from some old map.

  The little man slipped between them and stepped in front, taking them between buildings where the snow varied from a dusting to knee high. Snow packed some doorways to the height of their frame, and icicles hung from several eaves, thick and as long as his arm.

  The path the human took them on weaved as if the buildings were trees planted by nature, but it took only a few wicks before they stood outside a second courtyard and the tower wearing a white crown of granite and snow. His eye followed the beam of light into the hazy morning sky, and his skin pricked with the memory of an explosion and pain.

  Rinold stopped, and everybody but Inslok followed suit. The Edan waved off the Trelelunin warriors and strode ahead twenty paces before stopping to stare. Glimdrem huffed. He was here to observe, that didn’t mean he had to stand back. He gripped the hilt of his sword tight and walked to Inslok.

  They stood in silence for a wick before the Edan spoke. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know enough to speak with authority.”

  “Neither do I. Impressions?”

  “In the Vale, the beam went completely dark, here we have a single bar of black.”

  “Elemental Dark?”

  “I don’t believe so, in either case.” He kicked himself for never having considered that question.

  “I concur. The Chancellor showed me a half a dozen illustrations in God Wars tomes. Depictions of Celestial Gates are of white light, tinted sometimes… artistry or the truth, it’s impossible to say. But none bore a black bar, nor turned black. So, what is it? What could cause such a thing?”

  “Without seeing, feeling it in person, I’d have said Dark. However, I don’t have a better explanation.”

  “Nor I. Note the question.”

  “As you say.”

  A shiver of power, and Glimdrem’s eyes flicked to and fro, terrified of what would come next. He braced his feet and leaned toward the beam. The world wavered, and a pulse woofed from the beam, but this pulse was a ripple compared to a tidal wave in the Vale. He stood straight, feeling a tad foolish as human feet pounded close.

  Solineus said, “That was mild compared to the Eve of Snows. Could it be weakening?”

  Inslok stared, eyes never leaving the beam. “Conceivable, but unlikely. That it remains after so long makes this gate unique to the Chancellor’s studies. With nobody on this side of the gate to maintain its power, it suggests the Queen is active from the Celestial. Or, it’s tapped into a connection between the worlds we’re unaware of.”

  Rinold’s voice rang an octave higher with nerves. “I’ve felt this before, at the Shrine of Burdenis. The quiver in my eye teeth says a godsdamned Shadow will slip from the gate.”

  Inslok’s head turned slow as an owl. “There’s another Celestial Gate?”

  “Aye, but it’s nothin’ compared to this bastard, no light or nothin’. Or at least, there was one.”

  The Edan’s head spun back to the gate and a tendril of Shadow slithered through a crease, or perhaps more accurately, a split in the universe. Glimdrem’s knowledge of the Celestial lacked the proper words to describe what he saw, let alone to understand the vision, but it fascinated him like nothing he’d witnessed before. There’d been no time at the Vale of Resting Winds to consider what it was he saw; the moments were life and death. This was different, watching a living thing wriggle from one world to another. I will study and come to understand this.

  The Shadow shot forth, like a bead squeezed between fingers until squirting free, and landed on the courtyard’s pavers in a shifting mass. Inslok strolled close, drew his sword and slashed the Latcu blade through the thing’s forming neck; if it noticed the attack, there was no way to tell. He sheathed his blade and gestured to Solineus. “Kill it.”

  The human wandered close, drew one of the Twins, and its edge left a clean streak through the Shadow’s essence. It faded into nothing without a sound.

  Inslok stared at the empty ground where the Shadow had landed. “Fascinating. Let us wait for another.”

  The Trelelunin warriors formed a circle and waited in silence. Time dragged on, at least a half candle, and Solineus’ eyes narrowed. Glimdrem meandered to him with a grin. “He’s timing the birth of the Shadows, if my guess is correct.”

  “Ah! That makes sense… without a sandglass or candle?” Glimdrem stared until the human got the point. “He’s Edan.”

  “Correct.”

  “And you spend your life with these folks?”

  “Surrounded by them, but not really with them.” A flutter of motion caught his eye: A Shadow drifting across a rooftop. “We have company.”

  “So we have.”

  Rinold said, “Shits, they’re coming from everywhere.”

  The little man exaggerated, but his point was not far from the mark. One Shadow turned into dozens in a matter of flickers.

  Inslok intoned, “Close ranks and wait.”

  The warriors drew in tight around the humans, in theory the only ones here vulnerable to attack. The Shadows seemed aware of this, hovering and watching instead of attacking.

  A shiver of power, and reality quivered. Inslok said, “Thirty-three wicks.” The Edan stepped close to the creature and held out his hand. The Shadow cowered, but Inslok didn’t let him escape so easy. A flicker later he plunged his hand into the thing’s billowing head. A shrill scream and tendrils of Shadow flailed, but it couldn’t shake the Edan’s grip until Inslok pulled his hand free.

  “Kill it, we wait for another.”

  Solineus drew his sword. “You’re playing with our lives.”

  “I’m studying your enemy.”

  Solineus sighed and slashed through the demon’s budding head, sending the thing into the nether in silence.

  The shrieks of Shadows came a heart’s beat after the Shadow’s demise, a hundred voices or more tearing at his eardrums. Glimdrem covered his ears with his palms and imagined this horrible symphony could drive mortals to madness. The pitch and warble sent his nerves on edge, but it disappeared as sudden as it began, and he feared they charged to the attack. But not a one budged.

  Rinold shook his head. “Ain’t that enough study?”

  “A single time is inadequate to form a judgment.”

  So they waited, and with his eyes locked on Shadows Glimdrem didn’t bother to track time. Inslok’s eyes never left the Celestial Gate, from what Glimdrem could tell, and again a power shivered reality, but this time the pulse moved his hair. He spun to the gate, and the words slipped from his tongue, “It’s different this time.”

  A dark tendril wiggled through the crack, and Glimdrem hoped he was wrong, but the crack widened as it hadn’t done before. The thing coming through was big, stretched and elongated, but he guessed it the size of a horse. By the time it hit the ground, its mass had swelled, and he guessed it closer to an elephant from the Monumuhar Plains.

  Glimdrem swallowed hard. “We should leave.”

  Inslok stared on. “It is still Shadow, we’re safe.”

  “But not Shadow of Man! Unless you have an idea what it is, we should leave. You almost died once fighting an enemy you don’t understand.”

  Inslok’s gaze turned from the being. His mouth opened, but instead of speaking, he turned to face the new demon.

  Solineus noted Inslok’s peculiar silent turn, but only because he stood in the way of the creature boiling on the courtyard’s hard stone. The Shadows were monsters, this thing was monstrous, rippling with a solidity that might be muscle. It hunched on rear legs big around as two men, like some godsdamned frog without front legs. Its head shifted as a dark cloud of heavy smoke refusing to rise from the fire, and horns grew until as long as his arms.

  The Twins flicke
d into his hands, the rush of voices distant, and he wondered if beings trapped in unbreakable blades could know fear.

  Inslok’s voice came as calm as ever, but Solineus knew that somewhere in the Edan’s heart, fear had sprouted. “I know you, even if I do not remember you.”

  The demon’s horns twisted to face them, revealing two burning yellow orbs. Eyes? And from its shoulders sprouted two arms, more akin to an octopus than a man. They slithered to the ground and stretched toward them. A crease opened in the things face with a yellow glow. “I remember you, but never knew you.”

  “Return whence you came, demon of shadows.”

  “Return whence you came, demon of forests.” The Shadows surrounding them raised their voice in a deep chant, but there were no words he could discern.

  Solineus stepped to Glimdrem’s ear. “What the hells?”

  The Trelelunin shook his head, silent, but Zjin spoke: “Marukane.” But Solineus had no idea what he meant.

  “I will not leave until you do.”

  “I will not leave until you do.”

  “We will kill you if we must.”

  “I will kill all but those four, if you do not leave.” A tentacle rose in the air, pointing at Solineus, Glimdrem, Zjin, and the other Colok.

  Rinold said, “I think it meant to point to me.”

  Solineus chuckled despite it all. “Let’s get the hells out of here, Inslok.”

  Inslok shook his head. “Why them?”

  The blazing yellow maw opened wide, but didn’t say a word. A tentacle blurred and stretched in an instant, snagging a Trelelunin by the waist, holding him in the air, dangling. Arrows flew, pricking into the demons shadowy mass unnoticed by the thing, and Inslok leaped with sword in hand, the Latcu blade severing the tentacle.

  The woodkin collapsed to the ground, still struggling against the grip of the thing’s tentacle.

  “You are not a god.”

  The snared Trelelunin screamed, the severed tentacle wrapping his body as a great constrictor preparing a meal. The drone of the Shadows went silent, and Solineus heard bones cracking after the man’s screams ended.

  The demon spoke: “One.”

  “Inslok! Let’s get the hells out of here!”

  Inslok lowered his blade, pointing it at the thing. “I know you, and when I remember you, I will know how to destroy you.”

  Solineus punched Glimdrem in the shoulder. “Talk some shittin’ sense into this bastard.” Zjin grunted by Solineus’ side; there was no doubting the Colok’s opinion.

  Glimdrem said, “It won’t kill us.”

  Solineus couldn’t believe the words rattling his ears. The godsdamned demon had driven them all mad. He smacked Glimdrem in the head, and the Trelelunin didn’t so much as look at him.

  Zjin growled, “Leave.”

  Rinold said, “I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m all for runnin’ like the Flamin’ Smith is after me.”

  Solineus glanced back and the route to the gate was open far as he could see. He exhaled. “Shit on this bastard.” Solineus stomped to stand paces in front of the hulking demon. A red tongue licked its black lips from a burning yellow mouth, and a breath hot as steam left his beard wet. “Release them from whatever madness has hold, and we’ll leave.”

  A single horn-eye slithered to gaze upon him, and its tongue flicked at him. A Twin flicked back, and the licking piece of demon floated to the ground like a glowing feather. “You dare cut my tongue from my mouth?” It spoke in Silone now.

  “That was no more your tongue than this is your eye.” A Twin severed the horn, and it too floated to the pavers, and the second eye turned to examine him.

  “Who are you?”

  The words came as reflex: “I am Solineus Mikjehemlut, of the Clan Emudar. I come from a long line of sailors and warriors.”

  “Yes, but who are you?”

  Right then, Solineus realized the eye wasn’t looking at him. He glanced back and to his side: Dareun’s ghost. His mouth moved, but Solineus couldn’t hear what he was saying. He turned his gaze back to the demon, its horn and tongue regrown. The monster sat on its frog haunches, head lulling back to stare at the sky.

  A steaming breath left a glistening dew over Solineus’ cloak. “I release you, depart.”

  Solineus edged from the creature, glancing to the woodkin. Their eyes blinked with an unnatural rapidity, as if catching up with lost time. Dareun appeared in front of his face, pointed in the direction of the main gates.

  Solineus stepped straight through the ghost, snagging Inslok by the collar. “We’re leaving.” Dareun appeared by his side. “Thank you, Dareun. For whatever you did.”

  The ghost nodded, and Inslok stared through him. “Who are you talking too?”

  “What’s the matter? Edan don’t see ghosts?”

  Rinold leaned in. “Not to interrupt yer talk of spooks and other horseshit… could we get the hells out of here?”

  Dareun waved them on in the lead, and Solineus followed close behind. “How’d you get him to release them?”

  Dareun turned, but didn’t slow, floating across the ground. He pointed at Solineus, then faced forward again.

  “Me? Care to explain?”

  Dareun shook his head.

  “Don’t suppose you can figure a way to tell me what the hells is going on in Istinjoln?”

  Dareun shrugged. Shadows waited at every corner they passed and dashed from rooftop to rooftop following them, but if they blocked the way, they parted, and they didn’t bother to even feign an attack. Escorted by demons and led by a ghost. What the hells awaited him next? Istinjoln never failed to surprise.

  “Eliles is well.”

  Dareun nodded.

  “She’s on Herald’s Watch.”

  The ghost’s head straightened with those words.

  “She’s more powerful than you ever imagined.”

  He shook his head again and glanced back with a smile before stopping at the main gates. Hundreds, maybe a thousand Shadows gathered around them in the courtyard. If they rushed, there was no way a handful of woodkin and two Colok could save his and Rinold’s human hides.

  The Squirrel whistled, staring at the dark mass. “Don’t suppose yer ghost could get us back to the brewhouse for a couple kegs?”

  Inslok strode straight through Dareun, and the ghost bore a giddy smile. He mouthed a single word, and Solineus thought he understood: Edan. The ghost clapped his spectral hands like an excited toddler. Solineus muttered, “I’ll be damned.”

  Rinold cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Even ghosts are impressed by an Edan. Dareun, you be well. But I reckon you are what you are.”

  The ghost smirked and swept his arms in a gesture to the gate, and they followed Inslok down the winding slope to the waiting Colok.

  As Zjin stepped on to the back of the sled, Solineus turned to him. “You said something back there: Marukane. What’d that mean?”

  “Do not words. Ask Edan.”

  Solineus glanced to Inslok. “Well?”

  “I do not know. On this I swear. But I will remember, and when I do, will return and destroy this thing. We will speak when I’ve had more time to consider what I’ve seen.”

  “Not good enough.” He glanced back to Istinjoln, a dozen Taken stood in the gate, and Shadows filled the gap of every parapet along the wall. The Colok snarled and bellowed, and the sound of runners over ice ended all hopes of further words.

  38

  The Hidden Child

  The Sin to begin, the begun and the begot,

  the Virgin and the Whore,

  spear tip- heart, lungs, ending the deed.

  So She says, so They said, so All believe,

  but was it anger true, or a fear of the Seed?

  –Tomes of the Touched

  Ivin flipped the dagger, grip to blade to grip to blade, testing its balance and weight before throwing it at the wall. The tip struck, but at an awkward angle, and it clattered to the floor. The balance of the blade was
better than his knife in Istinjoln, but it’d take practice to get accustomed to its heft.

  Nostrolum bound from his seat and snatched the dagger from the floor in swift fluid motions worthy of a cat. He eyed Ivin, turned and with a flick of his wrist sent the dagger flipping across the length of the cage; its tip rammed deep into the wall.

  “You’ve done this before.”

  “Mel esselu lolisfur, sesselu.”

  They weren’t the first words the pair shared since spending the night together, despite neither having a clue what the other said. Ivin yanked at the dagger’s grip, had to twist to free its tip. Nostrolum was as powerful as he looked.

  A commotion of voices prattled outside, and he stepped to a window facing east, his cellmate’s whiskers brushing his head as Nostrolum leaned beside him to gain a view.

  A woman coughed and two sailors held her arms. Ivin had noticed the woman before, part of the crew. The captain led Loduma to stand in front of her, but they kept their distance. Hidreng words flew between them too fast to catch a syllable, and she dropped to her knees, pleading, her wrists twisted and held high by her captors.

  Loduma screamed, “Yumilo!” He paced in front of them, gestured as he stopped to stare at the woman. One man restraining her ripped the shoulder from her dress; swollen boils marred her arm. Loduma’s chest swelled, and he exhaled as he nodded.

  The two men hoisted her by the arms. She screamed and flailed, useless gestures against their power as they tossed her overboard. The boat floated a few hundred strides from shore, if the woman were a strong swimmer she might make it. Perhaps drowning was a mercy compared to the Rot.

  Loduma’s sword left its sheath and leveled at the two men. “Sovu. Sovu! Teshmeru dua mede. Sovu.” The only word Ivin knew was mede: die. The men glanced one to the other, kicked their boots from their feet, and jumped into the river. Loduma sauntered to the boots, jabbed them with his smallsword one at a time and flipped them into the waters.