Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  Solineus yelled, “Move! Forward, fast as you can! Everyone! Move!”

  They were three-quarters of the way across when the gnarled roots struck rope. The ropes held for a flicker before the stake in the southern shore ripped free of the soil.

  Kinesee screamed and people lurched forward, some tripping to scramble as the bridge swayed with too many panicked steps. Solineus grabbed her tight and kept her feet as she stumbled over a fallen man.

  The tree surged down the current like a battering ram from one of her stories of princes and castle sieges, but carried by a force that would ignore arrows, swords, and boiling pitch.

  Solineus planted his feet with both arms wrapped around her. “Hold on!”

  The tree hit the ferry two back square in the side; timbers snapped, and the ferry lurched, throwing people into the river. Solineus dropped to his knees with the rattle and shake, one hand to the deck, the other around her waist.

  Cracks and pops, rope or ferry? She turned as Solineus clambered to his feet, and she watched as the tree wheeled in the water. A wall of branches and leaves hurled in an arch straight for them.

  “Run!”

  But it was easier to scream than to find her feet. The ferry rocked and bucked on the surging waters and smaller logs collected to push harder. She slipped and fell, Solineus drug her to her feet, and then he stumbled over a fallen woman.

  He lifted the lady to her feet and gave her a shove toward shore before dragging Kinesee. Branches scratched the side of the ferry, and in an instant their path went from clear to a tangled forest. A branch ahead knocked the woman into the river, and Solineus’ sword rang from its sheath.

  The wicked weapon he said made butter of steel sheered the largest branch, and others he shoved through. She jammed her arm through the sword’s harness until catching her elbow.

  “Good girl! Hold on!”

  He cut through branches, the swords singing with reverberation at every strike, and she stumbled behind, doing her best to not throw his balance. A line of people followed, then a rope snapped. The ferry lurched and she heard a splash, but didn’t look to see if the noise was someone thrown into the water.

  Another rope broke, then another, and the ferry split from the one behind and arced toward shore. Fast.

  She stared at the oncoming bank and its ragged rocks. “I’m scared!”

  “Let go of me and get ready to jump.”

  She worked her arm free, and he took her hand. The pendulum’s swing hefted them toward shore at an uncanny speed. It seemed like a flicker since the ropes broke. “Now!”

  But her legs didn’t work. The ferry crunched against rocks and she felt Solineus’ hands grab her ribs, and he threw her. A scream ripped her throat and rocks ripped hands and clobbered knees. But she didn’t care.

  She turned to see Solineus stumble and lurch into the river, both swords driving into the waters. His feet flung with the current, but the swords didn’t budge and his grip held. He struggled forward teeth bared, and she reached out her bloody hand, but he was too far away.

  He smiled at her, and she was certain he would wash away, but instead he rose to his knees. Pulled a sword from the waters and jammed it forward into the waters, and like a man walking through heavy snows, he used the blades as poles to drag himself to shore.

  Solineus collapsed at her feet, his boots shoving at the rocks beneath the water to finish his climb, and she snaked her arms beneath his shoulders and pulled.

  She hugged him as he sat against her rock. “I thought the river was gonna wash you away.”

  He forced an exhausted laugh from his lips. “Silly girl, you should know by now it’ll take more’n a little water to kill me.”

  That night pyres burning bright on both banks of the Loetozu kept her awake until the wee hours.

  58

  Parlay Under Fire

  Tepid waters and Tepid souls,

  dip fingers in the cleansing bowls,

  drop treasures into sacrificial holes.

  What prayers do they have,

  what prayers do you keep,

  dead,

  yet through the night you creep.

  –Tomes of the Touched

  Eliles ordered a table with three chairs to a side placed out front of Skywatch, and covered it with food and drink, the flicker after Temeru delivered word the holy were desirous of a meeting. The nervous wait was less than a candle, which filled her with gratitude. Wasting time was necessary in her tower of fire, but there was no reason to waste said time with a quaking gut.

  Three priests sat amid flames instead of stars, the sky above hidden. Eliles knew of Temeru from Istinjoln, but Saxone of Umblic was from Emudar regions, while Pilorin of Fermon Dalo hailed from the far north of the Tuvrikt. She’d never considered where the adherents of Skywatch came from, but it made sense that every Lord Priest of Kaludor sent oracles to such a holy place.

  Did they consider her a fourth priest, or did they understand the truth? Meris named her priestess, and this might trump other realities.

  Eliles sat between Artus, devout as a common stone, and Jinbin, whose devotion to the gods came and went on a whim. Both would sooner drink than say a prayer, most days. In the eyes of the priests across the table, they must appear an odd and unholy lot.

  Temeru tipped her glass with a nod. “Thank you for the food and drink. It is gracious of you to share.”

  Eliles gestured with spread hands. “What we have you are welcome to share in.”

  “This is why we are here today, to make inroads.”

  Pilorin stroked his shaved chin, beady black eyes burning into Artus. “For the record, my suspicions of you and your people… denizens of the Salty Frog, are unswayed, but I also accept there are those among the stars who disagree.”

  Denizens of the Salty Frog? This one is a thorn. “There are those among us at least as suspicious of the holy hiding in Skywatch.”

  “We are not hiding.”

  Artus guffawed, then cleared his throat when Eliles shot him a glare. “As I said, suspicions on both sides. But we are willing to overlook our fears in the name of cooperation.”

  Saxone twined his fingers into a steeple. “I for one believe in cooperation, as we have no idea how long we will be here.”

  Eliles smiled with a nod, unwilling to suggest it’d be forever. Why ruin the positive energy? Everything pointed to a change in relations, and hope sprang in her beating heart. “You’ve made a decision, else wise you wouldn’t be here.”

  Temeru said, “After consulting with our people the last couple weeks, we’ve decided it is time to loosen our agreed upon restrictions. They were, after all, in place when we feared Taken overrunning Skywatch. From the moment this meeting is finished, the adherents of Skywatch will be free to leave the stars at their choosing. Some will take this opportunity, others will not, for a time at least.”

  Eliles’ eyes widened. She’d expected kind words and a loosening of the reins, only in her wildest fancy did she hope for capitulation in the ranks. “This is wonderful news.”

  Pilorin stood. “I’m glad you take it as such.” He turned without a hint of a farewell and strode through the door back to the stars.

  Temeru also stood. “I’m certain we will see each other more often… though I guess I see you all the time.” She winked and nodded to each of them in turn before departing to the stars.

  Saxone sighed as he stood, glanced to make sure the door was closed. “I’ve spoken for some time on the behalf of joining… what passes for the world now, here on Herald’s Watch. I do hope I don’t come to regret my advocacy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a walk.”

  Eliles stood and bowed. “Of course.”

  He smiled and wandered downhill from Skywatch.

  Artus asked, “What the hells just happened?”

  Jinbin rapped the table with a knuckle and snatched a bite of tuna. “I’ve got a better question: Did we win or lose?”

  “Boys! This’s good for eve
rybody.” Both men chewed food, at long last in agreement over something. “Oh come on. Really?”

  Jinbin smirked. “Maybe.”

  And the other man added, “Time’ll tell.”

  She gestured to the plates and cups. “I expect you boys to clean up this mess. I think I need a walk, too.” She shook her head and strode south toward what was once the garment district.

  Jinbin called out from behind. “They aren’t gettin’ none of my ale until we get crops growing.” And the laughter of two men followed.

  “Children.” But they needed to get something to grow; her walk would include a trip to the garden for at least the twentieth time.

  She rounded a bend in the road, stone buildings stacked side by side with slate tile roofs. She imagined streets crowded and shops filled with goods shipped in from the continent and regretted never bothering to visit before the exodus.

  “Good day to you, dear.” Eliles hopped at the sound of the voice despite its gentle tones. A white haired woman walked beside her in a holy habit; the silver stitches on her cuffs depicted the Wandering Star, suggesting she was an oracle.

  Eliles tapped her chest as theater. “Goodness, you startled me.”

  “So swaddled in your thoughts, I fear a man playing the lyre might’ve snuck up on you.”

  “Maybe.” Eliles laughed, sneaking glances to judge the woman. Her gray hair, commanding voice and tone, indicated she ranked as an elder, but her skin was smooth, her back straight, and her stride kept with Eliles’ own. “Good to leave the stars for a stint?”

  “Oh my, yes. I do love the heavens, but here a woman can breathe deep of the world.”

  “You’ve been in Skywatch a long time?”

  The woman hesitated. “Yes. Impossible to say for how long. As Bontore is my witness, from the stars I see time in a different light. Don’t you feel the same?”

  “A little, perhaps.”

  They walked in silence several strides before the woman exhaled a puff of air. “You found a dead child in the Tower?”

  Eliles stopped cold. “How do you know that?”

  “I have eyes, child.” She laughed, the sound of her voice so at peace Eliles relaxed again. “I am old and sneaky, this isn’t the first time I’ve walked these streets.” She winked before her face grew solemn. “I watched men carry the body and saw the smoke. Was it one of your people?”

  Eliles took a step, picking up her pace, and the woman matched her gait with grace. “No, the boy’d been dead for a while. Before the Choerkin left the island. Murdered.”

  “Mmm, I see. That is grave indeed. Any idea who did such a wicked thing?”

  “For all I know it was you.”

  The woman laughed again, and a chill slipped bumpy from Eliles’ neck to her tailbone, but her words soothed and warmed her. “No, my dear. I never killed a thing I didn’t intend to eat, except bugs and vermin… I can’t abide cockroaches nor rats.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Forget this woman’s strangeness, a chatty oracle isn’t an opportunity to let pass. “You’ve spent so many years in the stars… Have you ever seen a great eye dominate the sky?”

  “No.”

  Eliles kicked a brick, so much for—

  “Not before your fire came.”

  Eliles stopped and turned to the old priestess. “You know what it is?”

  “Of course I do, and so do you, if only you allowed yourself to entertain possibility.”

  She couldn’t put her finger on the something that felt out of sorts with this lady. “You knew Meris, did she see the eye?”

  “I knew Meris before even she stepped foot in Skywatch—”

  “That was a lot of years ago.”

  The woman waggled a finger in her face and tapped the tip of Eliles’ nose. “As you age, you will learn more of relativity! She and I, we saw things in the stars together.”

  A peculiar thought jumped to her head. “Did she see the eye? Did it cause her to jump?”

  The oracle took a step around her and walked uphill at a heart-pumping pace. “No. Meris jumped from the tower the day Peneluple Choerkin and her daughter died, it just took her that long to hit the rocks.”

  Eliles trotted to catch her, spun her by a shoulder; the old woman’s balance was perfect. “What is your name?”

  Saxone’s voice came from behind. “Who are you talking to?”

  Eliles glanced back, a flicker only; her mouth dropped open to answer and her finger rose to point, but no one stood in front of her finger. A breath passed. “To myself. I often talk to myself when trying to hash out problems.”

  The priest chuckled. “Well, good luck to you!”

  Eliles flashed a grin and strode toward the gardens with her scowl hidden. Either she was losing her wits, or the world grew crazier by the day. An image of a priest eating bugs in a corner of Istinjoln flashed in her mind, little legs scrabbling between his grinning lips. Japin? Jopin? Jalis? What the hells was that man’s name? What matter was his name? The Dark had corrupted his mind, turning him into a cautionary tale. What if the energies she’d unleashed on the island were doing the same to her?

  No, the world was madness, not her. Fix the garden, one mystery at a time. Fix the garden. Was my conversation with the Touched in the stars even real? The great eye that Artus didn’t see.

  She shook her head. No, fix the garden. One mystery at a time.

  59

  Spear’s Tip

  Once engaged, there are no two talents more important for a Warlord than the ability to deceive and the ability to spot deception. A Warlord capable of these two things will but rarely lose.

  –Codex of Sol

  102 Days on the Trail of Pyres

  “Mmm, one hells of a bridge.”

  Stone arches spanned two hundred paces, but it wasn’t the boulders cut down to bricks the size of men which sent a chill through Ivin’s spine, it was the four square towers and iron gates on either side of the river. Each stood three poles high, and it’d take sixty strides to circle them.

  Archers stood on the towers, staring at the Silone clanblood assembled. Ivin, Solineus, Polus, Tudwan, Danek, Stugin, and Budothe. Meliu, Sedut, and Lelishen rode with them, the priesteses garbed in dresses rather than robes, and their gazes down at their hands. Even from a distance, Ivin knew image would mean everything.

  Tudwan looked to Ivin with squinting eyes. “The Dinsang isn’t no bridge, it’s a godsdamned fortress. And it isn’t on the Blooded Plain.”

  Ivin said, “One way or another, we walk across.”

  The clans had let the people rest and build their strength for three days, it would have to be enough for a fight and a fast march.

  Solineus said, “The Reshu expected us to die here or soon after.”

  Ivin chuckled. “Well, we’ll disappoint the Duke Ovrin, lord of whatever the hells.”

  Tudwan picked at his horse’s mane and scoffed. “If your idea works… maybe.”

  Ivin heeled his horse and Nameless plodded downhill. “Whatever I say, you folks play along, got me?”

  At the bottom of the hill they reached a road which wound northwest into Litra; before the war between these two nations, Ivin suspected this was a major trade route, but these past three days the scouts saw no one pass.

  They reined their horses to a stop and dismounted. Ivin pulled a spear from its scabbard, marched ten strides ahead, tied a yellow scarf to its end, and jammed it into the turf before strolling back to the others.

  “Now we wait.”

  And wait they did. They arrived a candle after sunup, and by high sun Ivin wondered if a plan other than siege would see them across the Dinsang Bridge. They didn’t have a plan worth two damns if the Tek Malstefne didn’t come out to meet them, so there was no point to moving on. A candle after the sun found its zenith, the gate opened and thirty horses pranced through.

  Most days Ivin would’ve figured they were dead if these bastards rushed to attack, but with Sedut, Meliu, and Solineus, he figured they’d be
happier Teks to hear what the Silone had to say.

  The Malstefne warriors wore breastplates ridged down the middle and open-faced helms, typical of the more southern Teks he’d seen. Javelins bristled from the horses, and other men carried loaded crossbows.

  One was different, covered in silks, and his helm bore the plumage of a bright red bird. He was the man they needed to speak to, unless they pulled another stunt like Duke Ovrin with his twins.

  Ivin took three strides forward, Lelishen by his side to translate. “Greetings noble Malstefne lord. I am Ivin of the Clan Choerkin, from the northern isle of Kaludor.”

  The man dismounted and sauntered their way with a theatrical yawn. “I am Lord Sevin of the Dinsang Crossing. What brings you to our humble land with this—”Lelishen smirked as she translated his final word”—wood-witch.”

  “We seek to cross the Porro-ok so my people may reach the forests of the Dragonspans and a new home.”

  “Your people, how many?”

  “Thousands.”

  The man laughed, slapping his gut in mocking fashion. “I am sorry for my humor. You ask me to let thousands pass, when word is your people carry a disease.”

  “A foul lie of the Hidreng. As you can see, we are healthy.”

  “Yes, I can see. But I do not care.”

  “You should. Your enemy let us pass without battle for a reason, so we would siege your bridge.”

  “What would I care if you threw yourself at our walls to die?”

  Ivin controlled the beat of his heart and kept his gaze steady. “Duke Ovrin wants us to take your bridge, a daunting feat, now I see this is no bridge, but a fortress, so that the Fourth Army of the Malstefne marches to protect the city of Vaejoen, where we would strike next. The Litra would then sweep into Marziin with the goal of pulling the Second Army to defend that city.”

  “I thank you for spoiling their strategy. You may leave now.”