City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1)

by Steven Montano

  “Where are we going, exactly?”

  That was of course the one question she’d been afraid of, because it meant she had to make a choice.

  “I’m trying to figure that out,” she said evasively. “I’ll let you know when I do.” She hesitated when she saw the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry…that came out much more rude than I intended it to.”

  “Oh, no, that’s all right. Well…what are our choices?”

  Goddess, you seem so innocent. She tried not to look directly at Kath, because it would just remind her how unlikely it was he’d make it through their journey alive. “There’s somewhere I’m supposed to go,” she said quietly. Fear churned in her stomach. “But I don’t want to. So I was thinking of going somewhere else to see if I can find some answers. Maybe even some help.”

  “That sounds smart,” Kath said. He chewed thoughtfully. “So what’s the problem?”

  “There are too many to count,” Ijanna said with a sad smile. Her eyes got lost in the half-empty tankard. All roads lead to the same place.

  “Listen,” Kath said. He put down his fork and fixed his eyes on her. “I know you used some sort of magic that makes me want to protect you…”

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to, if that’s worth anything.”

  “Well, that’s just it – I want to help you. Even without the magic. At least…I think I do.” He laughed. Ijanna laughed too, in spite of herself. “I want to help you – not just protect you, but actually help you. But to do that I really need to know what’s going on.”

  The bond clouded his thoughts, but perhaps he’d worked past that stage of the enchantment. So far as she understood that was how it usually went – the need to serve faded from a dominating compulsion to a subtle desire to help, and before long the bonded individual was almost himself again. That was what happened when a common Bloodspeaker healed. Ijanna was very powerful, and she had less control over her abilities than others. There was no telling what sort of damage she’d done.

  There’s no way to undo this, she reminded herself. Live with it. And make it as easy for him as you can.

  “All right, Kath,” she said. “All right. You deserve to know. I warn you – it’s a lot. A lot to take in, and a lot to deal with. And some of it may seem a little…”

  “Unbelievable?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ijanna became suddenly aware of the creaking wood over their heads, the people moving about on the upstairs floors, and the splash of rainwater on the nearby windows. The clamor of conversation made the air heavy. “I think we need some privacy,” she said. Ijanna closed her eyes, focused on the space around her and Kath, and breathed out. The warmth of the Veil filled her chest. An invisible sphere wrapped around them and filtered out sound. Anyone outside the sphere would hear them talking but wouldn’t be able to make out their words, as if she and Kath spoke in some undecipherable foreign tongue. Kath watched her, puzzled.

  “Did you just use magic?” he asked.

  “Yes. You don’t have to whisper, no one can understand us now. It’ll last for a little while.”

  “It didn’t look like you actually did anything,” he said nervously.

  “Not all magic is flamboyant,” Ijanna grinned. “It usually is for Veilwardens, but they have to expend a lot of energy to produce even a small effect. Most of what a Bloodspeaker can do is more…subtle.”

  “And that’s what makes a Bloodspeaker different from a Veilwarden?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  Kath nodded and took a sip of beer. “No kidding.” He looked thoughtfully at his drink. “The Church tells us it’s evil. Magic, I mean.” He hesitated. “Is that true?”

  “No,” Ijanna said. “Not really. Magic comes from the Veil, and the Veil isn’t evil, but it can be used for evil, just like anything else. The Veil is life, and death. It’s the source of magic…the source of life, really.”

  “That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Kath said. “I mean…what is it?”

  “It’s the tainted blood of the One Goddess,” Ijanna said. “It doesn’t have a physical form so far as anyone knows, but it feeds everything in the world around us. It provides life, and it takes it away. Without it nothing lives, but to touch it is to die, at least a little. It isn’t infinite.”

  “So what they tell us is true…sort of,” Kath said slowly. He was clearly having a difficult time following her. “It’s the One Goddess’s blood, from the Turn of Night?”

  “Yes,” Ijanna said. “Her blood rained down to earth while the Unmaker tortured her.”

  “And it’s like…food?”

  “More like fuel. Every time someone is born a bit of them comes from the Veil. When they die another part of the Veil is what takes them away.”

  Kath grew visibly uncomfortable. “So we’re talking about souls, aren’t we?”

  “Not really – that’s something different. The Veil is just power: the power that makes it so souls can live, and the power that destroys them when a person dies. There’s really no easy way to define what the Veil is – different people believe it to be different things.”

  “But when you use magic you’re stealing some of it away,” Kath said, “and that means there’s less for the rest of the world to live off of.” He looked at her, uncertain. “Does that sound right?”

  “For Veilwardens,” Ijanna nodded gravely. “When a Veilwarden ‘Touches the Veil’, as they call it, he removes some of the Veil from its source and transforms it into something else. He can form fire or ice, or he makes himself fly, or he calls storms…he produces magic, but what he takes can never be put back.”

  Kath thought on that. Ijanna could tell he was confused, but she was always confused herself when she had to discuss the nature of the Veil. She’d never really talked about it much outside of the monastery in Allaj Mohrter, and even those discussions had been purely theoretical. The concept of the Veil was frighteningly abstract for something which every scholar, holy man and commoner believed was what made life possible, something the Empire of Jlantria had built its power base on…something the Blood Queen had used to nearly destroy the world.

  “So that’s what a Veilwarden does,” Kath said.

  “Yes,” Ijanna said. “A Veilwarden isn’t born with his powers. He has to learn to Touch the Veil from other Veilwardens.”

  “And where did those Veilwardens learn?”

  “From those who came before them, I suppose. I really don’t know all that much about Veilwardens, Kath, least of all why they chose that title. They say it’s because they respect and protect the Veil, but…”

  “But they still use it,” Kath said.

  “Yes. And they kill a little bit of the world every time they do.”

  “It’s illegal in Jlantrian cities, you know,” Kath said. “Only people in direct service to the Empress are allowed to use magic. For everyone else it’s punishable by death.”

  “I know,” Ijanna said. “Trust me, I know.”

  “Right,” Kath said, seeming embarrassed. “Right.” He took another drink.

  “Bloodspeakers are also illegal,” Ijanna added. “We’re born with some of the Veil inside of us, and we can use it to make magic. We don’t reach out like a Veilwarden does – we have our power all to ourselves. It’s tied to our souls.”

  Kath looked afraid to ask his next question. “What happens when you…you know…use your power up?”

  Ijanna’s look must have given him his answer, and he nodded. He looked afraid and concerned, and Ijanna raised a hand to stop his next question before it was asked.

  “I’m in no danger of that,” she said. He looked dubious. “I’m not placating you, Kath…it’s true. I’m not like other Bloodspeakers. I’m different.”

  “How?” he asked.

  The crowd in the Harpy’s String started to thin out. A clap of thunder rattled the
windows, and the rain poured down outside. A few early drinkers still lingered at the bar, telling loud tales and laughing heartily.

  “I won’t run out of Veil energy,” she said. “Not ever. I’m very powerful, Kath. And there’s something very important I’m supposed to do with my power. There aren’t many like me – only three of us, actually – and that’s why so many people want to get their hands on us. The Black Guild, the Phage, even the White Dragon Crown – they want to sell me.”

  “Sell you?” Kath growled. “I’ll lose my head before you’re sold to anyone…sell you to who?”

  “I don’t know. Someone who wants me because of what I can do. Or who wants to stop me from doing it.” I don’t want to tell you this, she thought. Any of this. But you deserve to know. And she’d desperately wanted someone to talk to for so long. Bordrec would only hear so much – his loyalty to her was born through a blood-debt, and they’d never had the kind of relationship where she felt like she could open up to him personally. Of course, she’d never really been good with people. Most of her life had been spent in the company of mystics and warriors who treated her like a dangerous animal. She had very little knowledge or memory of her parents, and the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend was the man she’d killed.

  The only people you can open up to are the ones who have no choice.

  “What do you have to do?” Kath asked hesitantly.

  “I have to go to Chul Gaerog,” Ijanna said.

  Kath turned pale. “The Black Tower.” This soldier – this strong and powerful young man – looked more the boy than ever.

  He is a boy, Ijanna reminded herself. But he was with her now, locked into her insane mission. Young as he was, he needed to grow up fast.

  “Why would you go there?” he asked. “It’s the heart of evil.”

  “Not everything is what it seems, Kath,” Ijanna said. “The Rift War was almost thirty years ago. Few understand what actually happened, or who Carastena Vlagoth really was.”

  “People died,” he said. “That’s all I know. The Blood Queen rose and tried to conquer everything, and the Empires united.”

  “Yes,” she said. “The world still hasn’t healed. And it won’t, until I do what I’m supposed to do. I have to die, Kath. Only my sacrifice will save us.”

  Kath clearly didn’t know what to say. He would have questioned her, but their bond was enough to impart on him the truth of her words.

  They sat silent for a long time after that. Kath picked at his plate. The air turned colder.

  “We’re not going to Chul Gaerog just yet,” she said at last.

  “What?”

  “Like I said, Kath…there are others like me. I have to find them…well, one of them.” She took a deep and shuddering breath. All of the fear she thought she’d put aside came rushing back at her. “I’m scared, Kath,” she said quietly. “Ever since I was old enough to speak I was told by Allaji mystics the only way to heal our wounded world was for me to die. I don’t think I really understood it then…I didn’t comprehend death.” She felt herself shaking. “But I do now. What I saw…”

  “In the camps,” Kath said, and he looked up from the table like he’d just seen a ghost. He hadn’t meant to say it. Memories flooded back to her, the fires, the blood, the screams. Torture and cries for mercy. Children beaten to death, slow rapes, jagged blades. Pits filled with people who had just enough time to cry out in terror before they were set aflame.

  “You know?” she rasped.

  “Everyone knows,” Kath stammered. “I know more than some.” He looked weak. “My mother fell in love with a man, and she left us for him. I don’t know if he was a Bloodspeaker or not, but he was taken to the camps by those knights…the knights they exiled.” His voice was brittle. “They took her, too…”

  Ijanna’s hand found Kath’s on the table. His grip was like ice. “Kath…I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

  “I saw the mark on your back,” Kath said dully. “I…I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”

  “No,” Ijanna said. “No, you can’t. Nor do you want me to explain it.” She felt tears running down her face, but she tried to ignore them. “Whenever I think of what I lost there…I’m empty inside, Kath. What I lost…” What I lost can never be replaced. She shook herself and clenched Kath’s fingers tight. “I’m tired of running,” she said with as much strength as she could muster. “When I’m not running from the Empress I’m running from the Phage, and now the Black Guild, and the Chul…”

  “The Chul?”

  “A nihilist cult. Hellish people who worship Chul Gaerog, and what they think is still trapped inside. They all want me, and most of them want me dead. Everyone I meet is trying to kill me or capture me, and here I’m trying to fulfill a promise made for me before I was even born.” She let go of Kath’s hand. “The only choices I have left are to stay in one place and get killed or go face my fate and die.” Her anger returned. It gave her strength. “But I won’t do that. I need to know why those are the only choices, why I’ve been chosen to martyr myself for people who’d rather hunt me down and kill me as soon as look at me. Why is this the only way? Is it the only way? I have to find the others…the other…and now I have the means to do so.” She patted the thar’koon blades, wrapped in heavy cloth and resting against her chair. “These were created to lead the owner to me, and to those like me. Now I can use them.”

  “Ijanna,” Kath said. “I’ll help you. You know I will. I’m sorry…you must be lonely.” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “I would help you even if this magic hadn’t bonded us. So you let me know exactly what it is we need to do.”

  “Thank you,” she said, but it seemed a foolish thing to say. You’ll help me because the Veil will force you to. I have no friends, and never will, save those bound to me by a power that consumes my soul. “There’s a man in the city who will help us get to Chul Gaerog,” she said. “He has influence and connections. I’d like to find him and tell him I’m not going to the Black Tower. Not yet.”

  “So where are we going, once we find your friend?” Kath asked. He seemed to have perked up a bit. Ijanna knew she was about to ruin his mood again.

  “We head north – into the Bonelands. That’s where the blades tell me I’ll find the other woman like me. We’ll try to find her and…and then we’ll go from there. I just hope I have time. I can feel something happening. Whatever threat it is I’m supposed to quell is gaining momentum. And it’s getting stronger.” Ijanna shook her head. She felt that old fear returning, that old doubt. I’m being selfish. I’m putting everyone else in danger because I feel like I deserve a chance to live. It went against everything she’d ever been taught, everything the Allaji mystics had tried to instill in her mind from the time she was a young child. They never saw the death camps. They never had to watch everything they’d ever wanted ripped away. “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she said, half to herself. “I hope this won’t cost any more lives.” I have to try, she told herself. I have to. The weight of this burden is crushing me.

  “Are you all right?” Kath asked.

  “No,” she said. “Not really. But I’ll do my best.”

  She straightened herself. Enough of this. You’ve made your decision. There’s nothing to do now but move forward.

  The Harpy’s String was nearly empty. A few rugged-looking men amiably discussed the failings of various pieces of farming equipment while they enjoyed what looked to be their third or fourth round of ale, and an elderly woman with silver hair sat in the corner and talked to herself while she drank tea and knit a pair of long socks.

  “I’ll help you,” Kath said again, “but there’s one more thing I need to know.”

  “Of course,” Ijanna said. She felt like she could sleep for a month. Not yet. There’s much to do before you sleep.

  “When you get to Chul Gaerog,” he said pensively, “what will your sacrifice do? I mean, what how would your dying save us?”

  A lump came
to her throat, but she didn’t hesitate. She’d promised herself she’d tell him the whole truth.

  “My death,” she said, “will bring the Blood Queen back to life.”

  Fifty

  Kol tasted the rain. Large puddles covered the street, and small waterfalls ran from the rooftops. Lightning turned the sky the color of cleaned bones. He kept the hood of his cloak drawn so as to not draw attention from the human sheep out on the road, and it took some effort to combat his urge to open his arms and howl. Like a wolf, he had to be patient, even if his patience wore thin.

  It was taking far too long for them to find the Dream Witch, and he knew the Witch Mother was angry. Failure for Kol would mean his death, but worse, he’d be dishonored in the eyes of the Chul. His wives would be given to the leader of another pack, and his hunters, should any of them survive the Witch Mother’s wrath, would become a feast for the Skull Masters.

  Kol would not fail.

  He watched people pass in the rain. They were silent and stupid lambs giving off sweet and tender smells his keen nose pinpointed even through the deluge. Kol and his pack hadn’t enjoyed a proper feast for over three days, for the power instilled by the Skull of the Moon forbade them to eat. That same power burned through his mind and blood – it heightened his senses, lent him strength, and made it so he could utterly ignore pain. He and his pack still had nearly a month before the Skull would consume them if they failed to destroy their chosen target.

  And that was what maddened him. His increased ability to sniff out prey should have afforded them the means to track down the Dream Witch with ease, but somehow she’d figured out a way to cloak her scent with magic. The trail hadn’t vanished entirely, but it was difficult to follow.

  Kol and his pack had finally found the place where she’d been that morning. It had taken precious time, for even with their remarkable senses it was difficult to track in a place so polluted with smells as a city, and the relentless rainfall had turned the roads to muck. But they weren’t far behind her now.

  They stood between a low building and a shed in an alley filled with shadows. The Dream Witch’s scent had led them to the military compound outside of Ebonmark’s walls, which had taken diligence and caution to investigate. Kaerog and the others had badly wanted to kill soldiers and take their heads as trophies, but Kol had been forced to dissuade them, even though he hadn’t wanted to.