Crimson Valley

by Hausladen, Blake;

  “Feet,” he said and clapped his hands at us.

  Ghemma struggled to act beaten. Burhn worked to remove a dozen seemingly nasty splinters from her feet despite both being perfect. He managed to keep his face flat and departed after without saying a word.

  Ghemma tucked her well-rubbed feet back under her skirt and the rest of the day proved easy for her to endure.

  When I woke next, Ghemma was walking beside the trundling wagon, the children sound asleep in her arms despite the baying of the mules and men that woken me.

  The view had not changed. The swamp reached out in all directions, and a blanket of gray clouds hid the sun. The air did not move, and the misshaped wheels groaned upon the narrow road of tossed gravel.

  Behind us, we could hear the distant baying of the beasts stuck in the mud. If even one of them had been smart enough to follow the meandering road they have overtaken us days earlier. They come straight at us instead and ducked themselves into one bog after another.

  More and more people joined us on the road and they packed tighter and tighter around the wagons.

  Shiema kept her head up as the steam of additional refugees flowed up out of Berm. She stayed as quiet as sutlers, lake folk, and tundra walkers poured into the hills.

  The world was coming apart, but for her it had already ended. Her home and all her powers were gone. As the days wore on she slumped. Her men were next, marching along without swagger.

  The sky behind us looked as cold and unfriendly as any other Bermish afternoon, but there also was that dark creeping feeling. Hessier beasts and thralls by the thousands would come for us.

  What wine they had was passed to keep away the terror, and we were subjected to an endless litany of Bermish complaints and over-told tales. One man began to brag that he’d seen a Havishon royal escape worse along that road. Ghemma told him to shut his mouth.

  “It is true, beautiful,” he said, and I regretted that she given him the interaction he craved. “Hurdu and Hemari were after him. Ten thousand they were, in their armor and led by princes. He and his rogues avoided the lot and escaped north without a scratch.”

  I scoffed and he gave me a piteous look.

  “It is true. I saw their captain with my own eyes. Sahin Ludoq was his name. You must know the tale.”

  “Sahin?” I asked. “What? Start over?”

  “Well, this is the spot where he escaped, actually—a trail through the swamps known only to the sutlers and occasional traveler beset by our enemies. Do not be dismayed by this festering green path one moment longer, dear beauties. We’ll emerge into the Halberdon and these beasts behind us will sink into the swamps, same as the Hurdu did. See that one there? A rusting metal shoulder stuck fast into the mire.”

  “Enough talk,” Shiema yelled.

  Not knowing the rest of Sahin’s story was maddening, but the route we were taking could have only one destination.

  “She’s going to sell us to Dagoda.”

  “I’ll die first.”

  “Quiet down. I’m from Dagoda, too, and don’t go acting all surprised to learn it. Once we are Dagoda, we have options. Here we have none.”

  She settled but not much. “Were you there before or after Matron Indra?”

  “I survived her. She didn’t survive me.”

  “What? You set the fire?”

  “Those that answer to me did, yes. I need you ready. Can you keep Burhn from doing anything stupid?”

  “I … I’ll try.”

  “Do better than try. We want to end up at Dagoda. Get okay with it.”

  We slept and we ate. We stayed still as a statue those two days up through the belly of that fetid swamp and made not one sound as we started through the Halberdon toward Dagoda.

  Ghemma went green the morning we made the turn onto the pristine cobblestone that meandered through the school’s horseshoe valley. The rest of the sutlers and their wagons had melted into the hills leaving Shiema and her wagon to conduct their business at the school without any undue alarm. It was as though nothing had changed. War, famine, and terrible magics had done nothing to upset the trade that made me.

  Shiema was quick. We were on the steps and presented for inspection before the horses could be rested. Ghemma soldiered though, and with one stabbing glance got Burhn to settle back into the wagon.

  The girl made to inspect us commented at length about my size. She was new to the task, and the girls watching us from the stair were few in number and lacking in quality. Dagoda was a shadow of what it had been.

  “What are you bringing me Shiema?” the matron said despite her poor position. “No one will want something so plump. How many kids have crawled through this one?”

  “You forget what will come north when Yarik draws the lake people into the fray. She’s a Bermish treasure. Who was born on a glacier and raised a son and a daughter upon the tundra. Rare. Rare indeed. You can bury the children now or keep them as proof of her fertility, but it is best to let the man who buys her do it.”

  They fell to haggling over price. Shiema had the advantage over the upstart Sermod and even got her to take Burhn off her hands. The three of us were left on the steps, children in my arms when Shiema got her wagons moving.

  “What is this move of yours?” Ghemma asked.

  I said nothing and waited for the Sermod to take my arm.

  “She robbed you,” I said.

  She slapped me hard and I almost fell.

  “Matron Indra would not have bought us.”

  She made to strike me again but halted. “How do you know that name?”

  “We are both graduates of Dagoda. Prince Barok was my patron. Grand Prelate Sataj was hers. The children are Barok’s, and this man she sold you is an acolyte of the Priests’ Home. She would have asked more for us but the negotiation was for show. She was here to get a look at how few men you have. She has 2,000 Bermish sutlers in the hills south of here and will have you naked and in chains by sundown.”

  “Liar, what fiction. You’re not from Dagoda. Prove it.”

  “There is a stone that rolled down off graveyard hill. It killed a man the day they moved it. I can also tell you about the affair your predecessors had and their child in Alsonbrey.”

  “You’re, Dia,” she said and then quickly steeled herself. “I’ll not take you to Rahan.”

  “No. You will take me to Yarik.”

  67

  King Evand Grano

  The Spring’s Correspondence

  57th of Spring, 1197

  Evand,

  Bessradi and I miss you, brother, though it is with a heavy heart I write to you. The mistakes made by Avin and those with him cannot be excused. Please accept my apologies and hear me when I say that your success in Alsonelm is more than Barok and I had hoped for. The conceit we practiced to encourage your brief departure from our side is documented here. We needed Alsonelm and the nobles who longed for their slaves to be destabilized by your rebellion until our move against their currency could be affected. Those who hold gold remain loyal to Yarik. Those with silver to us. There are far more who rely upon the latter, as you know, and now is the time for us to press our advantage.

  Without Emilia I am unable to attack, but attack I must to secure my claim. Your stroke in Alsonelm allows me the chance to deal Yarik a hard blow with perfect knowledge of his forces.

  Proceed south to Courfel, send maps of Yarik’s position, and prepare your army to strike him from the north as I cross to his south. Do this and the Kaaryon will owe its existence again to its noble Hemari. Do this and I will call you their Marshall and give you command of all Hemari everywhere.

  When I have received word of your commitment to attack, I will advance and together we shall end this war.

  Your brother always, Rahan Yentif

  60th of Spring, 1197

  Soma,

  The first time our lives intersected was the day Akal-Taks from Aneth raced through the streets of Bessradi. I had been lingering there in hiding, lost a
fter the slaughter of my division. The sight of the horses saved me that day and inspired me to stand alone against an officer corps that had sold the bluecoats to Yarik for fistfuls of Urmandish gold. Only the sacrifice of others saved me from my folly and preserved the men necessary for us to win that bloody day.

  Not much has changed. I control Alsonelm, its archives and garrison, but all my success remains due to those that give every piece of their person, industry, and metal to my cause.

  I imagine you that same day the Akal-Tak raced by, daring the deep sea to take you down, and in your darkest moments of self doubt being preserved by a crew willing to throw themselves into death’s jaws with nothing but your name to cure their mortal terror.

  My daughter Emilia sitting next to me has accused me of being terribly Yentif—wordy, being the point of her accusation.

  Returning to the matter, I write regarding your present condition. Emilia, in addition to being a keen critic, can see your souls and the terrible avalanche of Hessier bears down upon you.

  Come west. Escape Geart with every being you can and take shelter in Alsonelm.

  The man bearing this letter is one of those we owe everything to. Trust this man, and tell him how I may repay all the blood spilled in my name.

  This last I add, though Emilia is certain you know it already. The Savdi-Nuar hold Sikhek’s strings and they will betray you. Kill them if you are able and leave no living man or beast behind you. Their designs are laid against us all.

  Evand Grano, King of the Kaaryon

  68

  Goddess Emilia Grano

  Enemies

  The ship that led the armada of refugees downriver was one of the big one, its sails impossibly tall. Behind it, the river was clogged with so many boats and barges it was a struggle to keep a count of the people they contained.

  Wayland stood with my parents and me when we gathered to meet their Admiral and Queen upon the visitor’s dock. He’d told us about the dusty, salty road that the wounded people of the east had suffered because of Sikhek’s cruelty, and the pyres built of broken ships and broken bodies that added black scratches of smoke to a sky already gray with ash.

  The only thing that rivaled the tales of their misery was the story of how Evand, Hooak, and the peoples Thanin and Alsonelm had worked to be ready to receive them. Evand’s Hemari raiding parties ventured halfway to Courfel and Alsonbrey in their efforts to secure enough grain for those starving people, and thirty healers waited their turn to sit with me and sing to their wounds.

  There had been a few, like the Corneth slavers, that wished for selfish things during those blistering days. They stood out like stinking wounds and we did not suffer them to remain. A barge crammed with them was due to head south.

  The Hessier were flooding through the unguarded pass toward the Crimson Valley, and we would be next if we did not get further downriver and out of their way.

  “Are you sure you want to meet Soma alone?” Evand asked me.

  “She’s not as scary as everyone thinks,” I said.

  “You know what he means,” Liv said. “The letters between us are the best we could have hoped for, but she serves the White Lady. Do not forget it. We may not be on the same side.”

  I hugged them and walked alone down the pier as Soma stepped out of a longboat and made her way toward me. She was taller than I was, but not the giant I was expecting. I’d had a greeting in mind, only to lose it as she stood before me. She was angry and tired. Her uniform was dusty and crumbled, and those with her looked equally abused by the trip they had suffered.

  “No gulls,” she said, looking around. “The river has never been so quiet.”

  “It was a lot of work for the Hemari. We had to resort to poisons. Evand did not like giving the order.”

  “Thank you for understanding my letter. The beast he sends flying above us—they are the worst,” she said and scoured her tired eyes. “You can see them—the Hessier?”

  “The fight for the valley will start soon. Do you think Sikhek can stop them?”

  “It does not matter who wins. The Shadow will have hold of the victor and the beasts will come for us. We must get these people behind Barok and Rahan’s armies.”

  We fell silent again for a time and watched her battered fleet as it hurried around the bends of the river toward the harbor and the help that waited for them.

  “It would see that we are adversaries,” she said and the tension in her neck moved down to her shoulders and hands.

  “I’ve heard the same, but I have no quarrel with you.”

  She closed her tired eyes to look at my soul in her way, and I did the same to look at hers in mine. I was too worked up, perhaps, and could scarcely see anything. Her threads were there though, as savage and thick as ever. They were attached to Evand and the Vesteal as much as they were to her daughter and her crew.

  “I understand your connection with Barok and his family,” I said. “What do you want from Evand?”

  “Your soul troubles me, too. There is no light left in it—worse than Sikhek or Geart. I cannot understand how you are still alive.”

  “Answer me, please, Soma. What is my father to you?”

  “You grew up worshipping Bayen, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but he is nothing to me now. I have seen the souls of every person in Zoviya, Soma, and I can see my soul, blazing bright and whole connected to them all. I have been above, where the spirits move and war with each other and would see their war brought to an end. What is your concern?”

  “Child, you have no soul. When your eyes are closed, whatever you see of yourself does not reflect the condition of your mortal engine. I believe that you and Sikhek belong to this third one—The Vastness. He has been working against me since I first set sail for the Priests’ Home. I cannot have you inspiring the same. I have felt him pressing upon me again as we approach the city.”

  “I belong to no one.”

  Her threads lurched back from me as though I had struck her, but I had not. I opened my eyes to see her skin glowing bright blue while smoke curled from my hands. She jammed her hand into the pouch at her hip as the air between us crackled and tumbled with heat.

  “You’ll not burn me, girl,” she shouted and ran toward me as her pouch caught fire. “White Mother, preserve me.”

  “It’s not me,” I yelled at her as she grabbed hold of my neck with muddy hands as hot as bread from the oven. The air filled with honey and roses, I felt a terrible stab as though she meant to cut my soul to shreds. I caught her wrists with my hands.

  Everything stopped.

  The air went still. The heat and sizzle vanished. The lancing pain disappeared, and she looked at me as though her hurts had gone as well. The burning pouch guttered and went cold as we looked at each other and around the pier. Cold mud slid down my collarbone.

  Blinking my eyes I could see nothing—not my soul nor anything else.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “Nothing, Soma. Did you lose your magic, too? I can feel none of mine.”

  The people on either end of the pier were rushing toward us.

  “Stay back,” she and I both yelled at them at the same time as we clutched each other.

  Around us a ball of swirling smoke began to form. Beyond it I felt the Vastness trying to get back inside me.

  “Don’t let go, Soma,” I said. She was having a hard time standing. “Are you okay?”

  “I am old,” she said and sagged into me.

  The smoky shell around us expanded and its surface twisted with blue scratches. A low hiss rose over the soft lap of river waves.

  Liv and a girl in yellow broke free of the men that had heard our calls to stay away. They raced toward us.

  “No, mother, stay back,” I screamed through the smoke and they both came to a halt beyond the smoke.

  “Pikailia?” Soma said to the girl, weak and bleary-eyed.

  “Mother, what can I do?”

  “Our magic has gone,” I sai
d. “When we touched each other, it went away. The spirits are trying to get back to us. They would have us kill each other.”

  Soma’s daughter drew a knife but was not as quick to attack as her mother and stayed beyond the expanding globe of tortured smoke. “What happens when you let go?”

  The smoke began to get thicker and the blue streaks became lashing forks of lightning across its surface.

  “We need to get apart from each other, and fast, I think.”

  Soma grabbed a fistful of my dress to stay upright and looked around. “What have I become?”

  I felt different, too. Smaller somehow. A girl from yellow row and nothing more.

  “It feels good, doesn’t it?” I asked her.

  She managed to stand on her own, but kept a solid hold on my neck. “Yes, Emilia. Yes, it does. I have been driven by it for so long. Gods, was Sikhek right? Have I been the Spirit’s tool?”

  The growling smoke went black and became too thick to see outside. The hiss became a roar as the crackle of biting lightning became endless.

  “How do we be rid of them?” I asked.

  She took my face in her hands and searched my eyes. “You mean it.”

  “I do. I never asked for this. I will use it to save everyone I can while it is inside me, but this body is mine and I want it back.”

  “How do we get away from each other without killing each other? She would have me mend your soul. It would kill you.”

  Black and blue, the ball began to pulse.

  “I am going to run,” I said. “Aim your magic at my mother and father. Their souls have not suffered terribly since you mended them when you were in Bessradi. They can take the hit.”

  “Who will you aim yours at? I don’t have anyone with me that deserves to burn.”

  “I have a target,” I said and leapt away from her. The lightning globe collapsed upon us, and Liv and Evand screamed as Soma mended their souls. The smoke leapt into me and it demand someone burn. I could not stop it. I tried for a moment, but it was a mountain falling upon me. On the far side of the city a barge full of profiteers and slavers burst into flames.