Even so, Pacey cut away from the pack and ducked into a hut, coming out with Thurlun, who stumbled along with one arm over Pacey’s shoulder. None of the others looked back at them.
The tree that had been One-ear’s post stood closer to the bridge than did the boat, and One-ear, along with Ral, ran for it instead. Ral sprinted past him as they reached it, but there were no low branches — the only way up was shallow notches carved into the trunk. In his panic he tried to climb too fast and his feet slipped out of the notches. He did little more than peddle against the side of the tree.
The Ilven knew what to do. They gathered at the two strands of trees, taking hold of them and each other, making sure the wounded were secure against a trunk of the buttress-root trees. A handful of younger ones made it into the upper branches of the largest one. A few of them held Rolirra’s body, so that it would not wash away. It was like someone had prepared them for this.
Lerica managed to find a seat in the branches of a sapling that could barely hold her weight. Kyric tied himself to it with his sash. Aiyan surfaced as the wave struck the huts, vaulting from the water and diving for a hold on the root of the sapling.
The wave was not nearly so great as the sound of it. It had a gradation to it, as if the levee hadn’t collapsed all at once. Kyric had thought to see a wall of churning foam. Then he saw what the weight of water could do.
Without a great deal of violence, the tables were broken and drawn beneath the wave. As they neared the longboat, the slavers had their legs torn from under them, and they were carried along, some of them futilely trying to swim to the boat. The huts were torn down in one swipe, reduced to driftwood. One-ear tried to climb over Ral only to fall back into the oncoming wave, taking Ral with him. The longboat spun lazily in the flood until it was crushed against a tree. Kyric saw a man, Harlon maybe, impaled on that wreckage. Thurlun and Pacey had vanished beneath the wave.
Some of the wave was dissipated by the lagoon. Part of it crested the island of peat where they all clung tightly, and Kyric knew at once that he could not have kept his feet had he nothing to hold to. The flood covered the entire island, and then the island seemed to let go and it rose, bobbing as the rush of water pushed it along.
The bridge was gone. Everything except the island was underwater now. They drifted across what had been the clear strip of land, where the huts had been, and into the main current of the flooded river. It carried them downstream at a good pace, the island spinning very slowly as they went. They could all let go of their holds now, and Kyric walked the island’s edge looking for survivors on the water. He thought it one of the strangest moments in his life, riding through the jungle on a floating island with a group of ex-slaves who all thought they were dreaming. At the moment, it did feel more like a dream.
It was only a mile to the ocean. They saw no one at all, and very little wreckage from the camp. A handful of forested islands separated the river from the sea, dividing it into several channels. The floating island of peat came to rest against the shore of one of these, where lay a tangle of sticks and the remains of a table. The dingy they had used to lay the nets sat upside down on the ground beyond, completely intact.
While Aiyan searched the island for surviving slavers, Kyric use his machete to fashion a crude paddle from part of the broken table.
Lerica watched him. “Going to paddle up the coast to the Dorigano estate?”
Kyric shook his head. “I’m going back to find my bow.”
“How are you going to do that? Everything has been washed away.”
“I know how to find it.”
“Hmff,” said Lerica, “and everyone thinks that I’m overconfident.”
He sat down next to her. “My bow means more to me than I know how to tell you. When I was growing up, it was more than the only thing I owned; it was the only thing I had. Archery was my only escape from the constant lessons and labor, and loneliness, of convent life. When the pressure seemed too much I could practice with my bow. I would go to an empty place where the world couldn’t crash in on me. It was my lifeline.”
Lerica didn’t say anything and Kyric worked in silence, finishing the paddle and righting the dingy.
Aiyan came striding out of the woods. “The Ilven are moving to the other side of the island. It’s better over there.” He looked at the rough-cut paddle Kyric had made.
“Going to get your bow, are you?” he said casually, like there could be no other reason for making it. He tore another board from the ruined table. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go with you.”
The floodwaters had receded little, and most the forest still lay underwater. They paddled along the tree line where the waters were quiet, avoiding the current in the middle of the river. Kyric didn’t realize that they had come to the camp until he saw the sniper platforms where Pacey and One-ear had kept guard.
“We’ve come too far,” he told Aiyan as he shipped his paddle. He held out one hand, entering the temple of the Unknowable, opening a door. Something took hold of his hand and swung his arm around.
“That way,” he said.
Aiyan paddled in that direction. It wasn’t long before Kyric’s hand moved a few inches to the side. “There,” he said, pointing to where a nest of debris lay tangled in the branches of a fallen silk-cotton.
And it was there, half buried in a wad of thatch from the roof of a hut. The bow was scratched in a few places, and the string hung uselessly slack, but it was in one piece. Kyric gingerly lifted it from the water.
“Well done,” said Aiyan, patting him on the back.
Aiyan had them circle the flooded camp twice before they went back. He said nothing, but Kyric thought he must be searching for evidence of Thurlun’s fate. By the time they returned to the others, the Ilven had begun to build a funeral pyre in one of the clearings.
Aiyan cut their chains to make it easier for them. A fair amount of deadwood lay scattered across the island, and they gathered this while Kyric and Lerica cut greenwood with their machetes. They piled the firewood high. The rune sisters who had died at the convent were without family, and unlike most Aessians they cremated their dead, so Kyric had seen it before. He knew that it took a great deal of fuel to reduce a body to ashes.
They laid Rolirra’s body on the pyre that afternoon along with some wild flowers they had found. The Ilven sang a sweet little song, a tune that reminded Kyric of those songs about young love that were so popular at home. And that was all. Aiyan lighted the pyre with his sword, and soon it became a column of flame billowing black smoke, the heat driving them back.
Later, as the sun set, the three of them hauled the dingy away from the shore and set their camp next to it. Aiyan asked Lerica to stay with the Ilven while he and Kyric went to Dorigano for help. They would leave at first light.
“You had better be back the next day,” Lerica answered. “We only have a few pots of water — the regular overnight ration. Enough for everyone to have one good drink in the morning and that’s it.”
Kyric found a sandy place to lay as soon as the sun set. The Ilven had made campfires and torches, delighted to have light after sundown. They sat up talking as night came on, and he even heard a bit of laughter. It felt strange to hear it.
He closed his eyes, wishing hard for black sleep. He didn’t want to dream tonight, not in any way. He let his mind float on the sing-song speech of the Ilven. Tonight he would rest. Then he would —
— open his eyes to the warm light of morning. He sat up, the iridescent grass of the dream tree beneath him.
No one was there. Of course not, the Ilven were still awake, telling stories and wondering what would happen next. Then Rolirra stepped from behind the tree.
“You came to see me,” she said. “I hoped that you would.”
She wore a wrapped dress of dyed cloth, and looked twenty years older, a few lines forming around her eyes, her fingers a little more boney, a grey streak in her hair, which she wore cut to the shoulder now. Kyric wanted to go to her,
but he couldn’t move.
“How,” he stammered, “how is it you are here?”
She smiled. “I only did what you did — I asked the dragon for a favor. I couldn’t watch you be killed.”
“And after he saved me, he returned you as well?”
She nodded. “I did hold his bane in my hand.”
Kyric chuckled. “That had to be risky, changing the deal with the dragon. I guess you had nothing to lose.”
She shook her head solemnly. “I had you to lose.”
He blinked hard, a lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry, Rolirra. I am so sorry. You saved my life on this side of the dream, but I could not save yours on the other side. It’s my fault. Lerica was right — I should have done something sooner.” It was hard to look at her, but he did it anyway. “I swear by all the powers that I will never again wait and do nothing while — “
She held her fingers to his lips. “Shhh. Do not make such an oath — it is almost always unwise. And you did so very much on this side. You traveled with me, and we passed through wonders. I would have been lost without you.”
Taking his hand, she led him down the hill. “I want to show you something.”
They walked down the long, gentle hill to a small village next to an orchard. Rolirra stopped behind a large, well-made hut that had more roof than walls. A woman in her late twenties sat weaving a basket while a boy and a girl played a ring-toss game.
“This is where I live,” she said. “Those are my daughter, and my grandchildren. All is well here. I will live here and teach the young ones.”
Kyric watched the children. “You look older now. What will happen to you over time?”
“How we look is the reflection of our spirit. After many years have passed, I will grow old and fade away. It is the same on both sides.”
He turned to her. “I would like to come back here to see you often as I can, and if you don’t mind, I would like you to teach me more of the lands and the ways.”
“There is nothing I can teach you,” she said.
He shook his head. “What about the way you summoned creatures to carry us?”
“You know how to do that. Do not forget that it was you who taught me how to dance.”
“But you know of places and things that I do not. How would I have known of blue springs and storm dragons had you not been there to tell me.”
“You must learn the ways on your own. The truth is, Kyric, that were I the greatest dreamer of this land, I still would not know what to do with you. Your power is linked to the dreamstone itself. But unlike most of us, you have the ability to learn from yourself. That is a gift.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Then I will visit you out of friendship.”
She smiled, but it was a little sad. “I would be glad for that, but you will soon be going far away. You will walk dreamlands that cannot be reached from here. If you are unable to return, I will know still that you love me.”
“But I will come back.”
“I know that you will want to.”
There wasn’t much to say after that. After facing life and death together, after slavery and the plain of ash, small talk would have only cheapened their parting. She walked him back to the dream tree, and when they said goodbye he held her as a son would hold his mother.
CHAPTER 17: Judgment of the Blossom
They heard the lone shot echo across the open water at first light. Kyric and Aiyan had been about to set off in the dingy.
“It’s Calico,” said Lerica. “I know the sound of her swivel guns.”
They ran to the sea side of the island. A thin column of smoke still hung overhead. They shouted and waved at the little caravel, but there was no need as the ship tacked and came right at them.
They used Calico’s jolly boat to get everyone aboard, and turned the last bend in the river to reach the Dorigano estate shortly before noon. The ship had returned from Ularra the day before, and Captain Lyzuga had seen the smoke from Rolirra’s pyre, setting sail again at once, creeping down the coast in the small hours of the night.
Ellec said little as they told their story, his face hardening into a mask. Dorigano turned red as they spoke, interrupting with shouts of “Outrageous! Outrageous!” He seemed unable to think of another word.
Aiyan’s back was a mess from the beating he had taken, and a sick room was made for him. He wanted a bath first. He asked Kyric to scrub his back hard enough to reopen his wounds and examine them for any pieces of cloth that may have lodged in his flesh. The Ilven had been fed and watered aboard the ship, so Dorigano set his blacksmith to removing the remains of their shackles. The Enari offered to take them as guests for the time being, and Dorigano wasn’t unhappy to see them across the river. But he kept the man with the festering lakka bite in the room next to Aiyan, and he sent a load of flour, sugar, and rice over to the village.
Lerica had been smiling and light on her feet from the moment she set foot aboard her ship, bouncing and laughing at anything bearing the slightest hint of humor — a human animal let out of its cage. Kyric shook his head when she wasn’t looking. How can she simply be over it? It seemed so easy for her, as if all she needed was her freedom.
Varro and his search party of Enari came wandering down from the western hills that afternoon. They had first looked in the swamp following their guests disappearance, but apparently had not gone deep into it. In the last few days they shifted their search more inland, but they never made it as far as the ruined city.
Aiyan asked that they be served a supper of bread and cheese and bananas in their rooms. “Don’t eat too much tonight,” he told Kyric, “or you’ll likely see it come back.”
Kyric looked at himself. He had become surprisingly lean in such a short time. Despite the endless supply of angel ray, he hadn’t been able to eat much after that first evening.
He at last got his night of dreamless sleep, and after a quiet morning they went aboard Calico to meet with Captain Lyzuga. Lerica served them coffee and biscuits. She hadn’t left the ship since they were rescued.
Ellec looked at them with a completely different light in his eyes. Whatever Lerica had said about them had been good.
“You have my thanks for your bold escape that brought my niece out of captivity.” A curious smile formed at the corner of his mouth. “She tells me that she has gotten to know you better. I believe we can become friends as well as business partners. Whilst in Ularra I took the liberty of fully provisioning the ship, and if there is nothing more you require, we may begin our voyage from here as soon as your health permits.”
Lerica stared at him, and he turned to her. “Yes, I know. You wish to set sail this very minute.”
“I lost all my arrows,” Kyric said under his breath.
“You can have half of mine,” Aiyan said to him, then to Ellec, “Yes, let us sail tomorrow if we can.”
“Tomorrow then, soon as we’re done with the loading. I’m bringing two tons of coffee beans and praying that the Spice Islanders have a taste for it.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Kyric nodded in agreement. Like Lerica, he couldn’t get away from this place fast enough.
He awoke at midnight with Aiyan and Ellec standing over him. “There’s trouble at the Enari village,” Aiyan said.
An Ilven man — Lioffin, who had been the cart man — stood waiting on the dock with Dorigano. He was wet, having swam the river. Ellec explained as they rowed to the village in Calico’s jollyboat.
“The Enari caught a couple of the men from the slave camp sneaking around after dark, probably looking for food or fresh water. According to this man they have them tied and have been torturing them.”
As they approached, they could see firelight beyond the far end of the village, nearer to the swamp. They beached the jollyboat and walked past the silent huts, stepping into a circle of light where the Ilven and the Enari stood arguing in animated Cor’el. Two men stood tied to tree trunks, their arms secured over th
eir heads.
They had been stripped naked. Their flesh had turned red in some places, purple in others, and they were covered with blisters and boils. Vines with poisonous flowers had been set upon their heads like laurels. Milky tubers said to have corrosive properties lay crushed at their feet. Theirs lips were encrusted with little brown seeds, and a trail of dried vomit ran down their chins and their chests. They had been made to eat some kind of sickening fruit.
Their faces were so black that Kyric didn’t recognize them at first, then he did. It was Thurlun and Pacey.
“What is all this?” demanded Dorigano, stepping into the space between the tribes. They all fell quiet but no one answered him.
“This is from the old ways,” said Ellec. “The trial of the blossom, an act of ceremonial vengeance. One that I thought my people no longer performed.”
Jubi came out of the crowd. ‘We have caught he who destroyed the Enari — The Spider and one of his servants’ he said-signed. ‘Even after so many years, I knew him. The ancestors guided him here and we have done justice upon him.’
Aiyan pushed his way past everyone to stand in front of Thurlun. His eyes were wide and mad with pain. Pacey’s eyes were open as well, but glazed over and fixed. He wasn’t breathing. Kyric wondered if they had given Thurlun something to keep him going, so it would last longer for him.
“I hoped you would come,” Thurlun said with a rasping voice. “Pacey dead?”
“Yes,” said Aiyan.
“We got caught on a cypress,” Thurlun wheezed. “He held my head above the floodwaters, dragged me through the swamp. Hardly saw a croc, it was like they made a way for us.”
His eyes cleared for a moment. “They poisoned me good and well. You’ll help me won’t you, son?”
Aiyan answered soothingly. “Of course I will.”
He cut the ropes with his sword, laying Thurlun gently in the grass and kneeling beside him. A slight movement with the sword and there was a little blood.
The Hidden Fire (Book 2) Page 16
