Song of Echoes

by R. E. Palmer

  Uleva’s silken skin puckered. She snatched back her proposal, leaving Toryn as an empty shell ready to collapse. The glow spoiled to a sickly green to reveal the full horror beneath the hood. Two moist, black eyes glistened beneath a large, protruding forehead. Taut, gray skin stretched to bursting point across a misshapen skull as if straining to contain the all-consuming evil within. Uleva’s thin, black mouth twisted. She leveled her stony gaze, penetrating Toryn’s weakened defenses, seeking to uncover his deepest fears. She found them. Her lips cracked as they stretched into a grin. She raised a skeletal hand, extending her fingertip to Toryn’s forehead. He cried out as an icy spike drilled between his eyes. His world turned black.

  The whispers had changed. No longer the voices of strangers, he knew the voice — it was his own. And he listened. But as it spoke of his doom, another had joined the conversation. A woman, ever present, watched him from the edges of his nightmares.

  The wagon lurched, tossing him about its wooden floor, bruising his bruises and finding more places to cut and open his skin already crisscrossed by scabs. The rough sack of his prison clothing irritated his raw skin, but he had grown used to the discomfort and took solace from the little warmth it offered.

  Days and nights merged. The wagon moved; the wagon stopped; his captors would light a fire, eat, drink, sing, then sleep. To his relief, Uleva had departed, leaving the Ruuk more at ease, spending longer at rest. His headache had eased, and the dreams less dark, but he knew a sickness lay within, and it spread.

  The wagon stopped. Toryn lay back, welcoming the opportunity to be still. Outside, usual preparations for supper were underway. The light of the fire flickered on the canvas and soon the smell of roasting meat wafted in. After the Ruuk had taken their fill, they tossed in a few bones. Toryn scrambled to his daily ration and gnawed on the remnants of meat. The laughter and familiar songs began. He thought of Roold and the men of Drunsberg. What had become of them? He hoped they were strong and would survive the torment visited upon them in the wood. He closed his eyes and longed for a sleep undisturbed by dark dreams.

  The flap drew back. He bolted upright. A dark, crooked figure clambered into the wagon. Hands fumbled at his ankles and soon the clasps fell away. The visitor grasped his wrist and pulled. Toryn, still dazed from sleep, resisted. ‘Fool!’ A woman’s voice, gruff but clearly a woman. She spluttered as if not accustomed to speaking. ‘Do you want to stay?’ She tugged again. ‘Come, while they still sleep.’ Toryn did not stop to argue. He stood and staggered into the woman. ‘Careful, clumsy bones, you’ll wake them all.’

  Toryn whispered his apology, but this time stumbled into the canvas. He stretched his back and rubbed the stiff muscles in his legs. The woman steadied him. ‘Ready?’ She shoved a blanket into his hands. ‘Take this.’ He wrapped it around his shoulders and followed her out of the wagon. The embers of the fire rippled in the light breeze, shedding enough light for them to find their way between the sleeping forms of his captors strewn about the campsite. Toryn shivered and pulled the blanket closer. The woman led him away from the camp and light of the fire. In the dark, he struggled to find his footing on damp, uneven ground, but his rescuer refused to slow down. Each time he fell, she tugged on his wrist, dragging him further from the campsite. He tried to speak, to ask her name, and where she led him, but she would silence him with a sharp hiss and press on.

  After what must have been two hours of a painful trek, Toryn spied a dark, jagged line between the surrounding hills. He guessed it had to be the Kolossos Mountains against the coming of dawn in the east.

  At last, the woman stopped. They stood on the shores of a large lake. She sat and pulled a flask from a pack on her back. ‘Here. Drink this.’ Toryn gladly gulped down the sweet liquid inside, wincing as the sides of his sore throat scraped together. ‘Steady. That’s plenty.’ She snatched it back. The drink warmed his body, spreading to all parts, easing his aches and pains. But while the drink helped, deep inside he sensed unease. While his limbs felt warm, his stomach remained cold and numb as if icy fingers clawed at his insides, refusing to relinquish their grasp.

  The woman gestured to Toryn to sit. He joined her on the wet, tufty grass as she took a single sip from the flask. He saw her face for the first time in daylight. Toryn shuffled back. Her skin was darker than anyone he had ever met. Deep wrinkles marked her skin like ravines on a mountain range, giving her face the look of an ancient map. But her eyes belied her age. Even in the early light of dawn, her steely gray eyes shone with a vitality her body lacked.

  He spoke his thoughts out loud. ‘Who are you?’

  She frowned, creasing the lines across her forehead deeper than Toryn thought possible. She licked her lips. ‘Who am I?’ She spoke as if asking herself. ‘Who am I?’

  ‘Yes. What’s your name?’

  She snapped. ‘Name? I don’t need a name.’

  He tried again. ‘But surely you have one?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘No… no name. I don’t need to call myself anything. It’s just me. I don’t need to get my own attention.’

  ‘What do other people call you?’

  ‘People?’ She held out her gloved hands. ‘What other people? Do you see any?’

  Toryn looked about him. ‘Well, I’m here. What do I call you?’

  She shrugged. ‘Whatever you like. There’s just the two of us. If you speak, you can only be speaking to me.’ She folded her arms as if pleased with her reasoning. Toryn smiled. Despite the old woman’s abrupt manner, he already felt at ease in her presence.

  He tried to smile against the cold gnawing his gut. ‘But you must have one. I shall call you’ — he edged closer — ‘Hope. Yes, Hope, because that’s what you’ve given me.’

  She threw up her hands. ‘Fine. If you must. But don’t expect me to remember it, or answer to it, or remember yours.’

  ‘I haven’t told you it yet.’

  ‘Don’t bother. If I speak, it’s to you.’ She frowned. ‘But I often talk to myself.’ She clapped. ‘Got it. If I speak and I’m looking at you, then you know I’m speaking to you. But if I don’t look at you, it’s only for my ears. Ha! Do you see? We don’t need to bother with names.’

  Toryn noticed her tattered clothes. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Why so many idiotic questions? I’m from here, I’m from over there, the other side of the lake. I’m from over the mountains.’ She squinted at him. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Midwyche, in Darrow.’ He clenched his arms around his middle. The mention of his village expanded the emptiness inside. He tried to see his home, but his clouded mind could only recall the names. ‘By the River Tam.’ River? But he could not see it. ‘There’s a bridge, I know. I’m sure I’ve crossed it to get to the fields.’ He rubbed his temples. But as hard as he tried, he could not picture his home. ‘And a wood, somewhere, I think.’

  Hope shrugged. ‘Never heard of it, or the river. And you don’t seem so sure yourself, do you.’ She peered into his face. ‘Tell me, young fellow, where are you now?’

  Toryn glanced at the nearby trees in the growing light. ‘I… I don’t know.’

  ‘Then why does it matter where you’re from?’ She poked a finger at his chest. ‘Don’t you think it’s more important to know where you are this very moment?’ She nodded, looking happy with herself. ‘And where you’re going? That’s more important than knowing where you came from, is it not?’

  ‘I suppose. Then, where are we?’

  Hope threw up her hands. ‘Haven’t a clue.’

  ‘So, where are we going?’ Hope shrugged. Toryn tried to reason with her. ‘But I thought you said it was important to… forget it.’

  She smiled. ‘Have already, no need to tell me.’ She squinted at the horizon. ‘But don’t you worry, I’ll get you there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Can’t recall. I’m sure it will come to me before long.’

  He rubbed his bruised elbow, recalling the hard floor of the wagon.
‘Why did you rescue me?’

  ‘Rescue? You?’

  Toryn pulled a face. ‘You found me at that camp. You took off my chains, somehow, and led me to this place. But you don’t know why?’

  She scoffed. ‘Of course, I know why. Do you think I’m mad?’

  ‘No! I’m grateful, I thought I was done for.’ She held his gaze and, for a moment, Toryn sensed another looked back from behind her eyes. ‘So why did you help?’

  ‘It’s not right, keeping you chained up like an animal.’ She turned and spat. ‘Nasty creatures. Seen them before, not nice.’ She stood and grabbed his wrist. ‘Come on. Time to go.’

  Toryn had no choice. He found his feet. ‘Wait. We have to go to Archonholm.’

  She cocked her head. ‘Where?’

  ‘Archonholm. You must have heard of it.’ Hope stared at him. Toryn tried again. ‘It’s in the south, close to the gate. Those attacks, the sorcerer at the mines, and that woman, Uleva, the one in the wood. The Archon needs to know.’

  ‘Who?’

  Toryn despaired. ‘Our leader. He has power, the most powerful man in the land. The Archon will know what to do. He has to know what’s happening here.’

  ‘But if he’s as powerful as you say, he’ll already know.’

  ‘Perhaps he does.’ He thought out loud. ‘Dohl had said men with spears approached the wood. The Archon could have sent them.’

  ‘So that’s sorted. We don’t need to go. Your man in charge has everything under control.’

  ‘But there was that dreadful attack on Greendell. He should be told. And the stone, the Archon is interested in these matters.’

  She turned to the hills beyond the lake. ‘Where does this leader of yours live?’

  ‘Archonholm. I already mentioned… But, I don’t know exactly where it is. Wait! I have a map.’ He ran his hand down his trouser leg. He slumped. ‘They’ve taken it.’

  Hope tutted. ‘Then we won’t be going, will we.’ She walked a few paces, stopped and listened. ‘Shush! Someone’s coming.’

  He froze. ‘Where from?’

  ‘That way. Six of them. Your captors, I believe.’

  His heart raced. ‘But there’s nowhere to hide.’

  She beckoned him closer, seeming calm considering their predicament. ‘Take my hands.’

  ‘But…’ he heard shouts. ‘Shouldn’t we run?’

  ‘No time. And like you said, where to? Here, take hold.’ She shook off her tattered gloves and gripped Toryn’s hands. He stiffened, surprised at the heat from her palms. Hope hummed. Words formed under her breath, her hands grew yet warmer, the air about them rippled like heat rising from a cornfield in summer.

  The voices grew louder. ‘Fools! She’ll skin us alive if we don’t find him.’ Hope had been right — six Ruuk strode over the ridge, heading towards them.

  Another grumbled. ‘I’ll skin the little runt for making us come this far.’ Hope continued to hum her tune. They strode straight towards the spot where they stood but failed to see them. The Ruuk at the front stopped and held up a hand. ‘The tracks stop here. Two of them, he must have had help.’ He scratched his head and surveyed the ground, almost walking into Toryn. The scout stared through the wavering air, distorting his face. ‘I don’t get it.’ He paced around their spot. ‘No sign of camp, no sign of nothing, but there’s no tracks leading away.’

  Toryn held his breath as another stepped up. ‘Well, they can’t have flown away or walked across the lake.’ He grabbed the first by the throat. ‘Not much of a tracker, eh. I’ll let you explain to the Ice Queen how you lost him.’ He turned to the others. ‘And I’ll wager a week’s rations this fool’s tracks won’t return from his chat with her ladyship.’

  The scout pushed him away as the others laughed. ‘You let him escape, chief. It was you and your miserable mob nodding off to blame. I think she’ll be more upset by that.’ He brushed down his cloak. ‘I look forward to eating your dinners for a week when you can’t swallow because she’s ripped out your scrawny throat.’

  The captain held up his hands. ‘Alright, alright. We’ll tell her a company of knights attacked us if we don’t find him. I counted at least forty of those boys in their shiny armor.’

  The scout sneered. ‘She won’t believe you. She knows everything going on in these parts, and she ain’t going to be pleased if you lie to her.’

  The captain’s face paled. ‘Then we better bloody find the whelp!’

  The scout pointed. ‘They must have continued south east. Can’t think they’d have changed direction all of a sudden.’ Toryn felt Hope’s weight slump against him. He held her firm as she continued to hum, but he could see she grew tired. The air about them cleared a little. Thankfully, the captain had stepped towards his scout. ‘Come on, lads, keep looking. They can’t have gone far, it’s not like we fed him much.’

  The scout waded into the lake and stooped. ‘Here, chief. I reckon they walked into the lake for a while to put us off their trail.’ He grinned. ‘Ha! They’ll have to try harder to fool me.’

  ‘You better be right for all our sakes.’ The captain turned and yelled to his men. ‘This way you rats, and don’t think you’re getting a break anytime soon.’

  Toryn held Hope upright as his captors set off at pace. And not a moment too soon. The shimmering air shrouding them, suddenly fell away as the last man disappeared around a clump of thicket. Hope collapsed to the ground, releasing Toryn’s hands.

  He sat by her side. ‘How…? What was?’ But Hope snored. Around where they stood, a circle of scorched grass smoldered. His body tingled; it was not an unpleasant sensation, and more desirable to the coldness inside. Toryn had to know. He turned over her hands and examined the palms. Faint, wavy lines covered her skin. They swirled about her palm and extended down each finger right up to the tips. He picked up her threadbare gloves, pulled them over her now icy hands, then placed his blanket over her shoulders. He sat back. She was one of them; a wyke. He watched her sleep. She seemed harmless, and his body did not convulse in her company as it had with Uldrak, and worse still, with Uleva.

  Hope stirred. She sat and blinked, looking around as if unsure of their whereabouts. Her eyes eventually rested on Toryn. ‘Ah! There you are.’ She stood and stretched out her arms. ‘Coming?’

  ‘To where?’ Toryn chose to say nothing of his discovery.

  She turned a full circle, stopping to face the west. ‘That way.’

  ‘Why that way?’

  ‘I have to show you something.’ She scratched her chin as she searched the horizon. ‘It’s important. You need to see it.’ Toryn opened his mouth. Her finger shot up. ‘Shush! Don’t ask because I don’t know, I can’t remember.’ She grinned. ‘But I’ll know when we get there.’

  35. Calerdorn Prepares

  Elodi had returned to Calerdorn to find the rescued prisoners in better health than she could have wished. But if her spirits had risen by their recovery, Captain Roold’s account of the battle at Drunsberg and ensuing events, dragged them down. The old man, Dohl, also troubled her. His transformation from the crooked, harmless creature, into a raging madman, alarmed her. And Wendel had not been pleased to hear of her close scrape with death. But Elodi had little time to worry about Dohl. Reports from her scouts from around the ward had filled her with dread. While Elodi and her strike force had focused their efforts on Durran Wood, the enemy had not been idle.

  Elodi stood before the giant map and addressed her Council in Calerdorn’s Great Hall. ‘To the east, the Ruuk hold Drunsberg, but as yet, they have not ventured forth. I have dispatched a division of reserves, led by Captain Cubric of the Archonian Guard to keep vigil. Once we can secure the border to the north, we shall aim to retake the mines.’ Elodi ran her hand toward the Kolossos Mountains. ‘The wyke, Uleva is heading east, but we know not to where.’ She stepped back across the map. ‘Durran Wood is at last free of the evil, and the settlement within destroyed. We shall maintain a watch to ensure it stays that way.’ A few heads n
odded their appreciation. But that was the last of her good news.

  Elodi took a position before the blue sea on the wall map. ‘But my primary concern is the situation at Draegnor.’ Her stomach knotted. ‘We know enemy re-enforcements have poured into the fort and surrounding area. And… I believe the wyke who took the mines, who Captain Roold informs me goes by the name of Uldrak, commands the gathering masses.’ The room stayed silent. She took a deep breath. ‘Members of the Council, judging by the movements witnessed by our scouts, we can be certain they’re preparing to launch an attack on Calerdorn very soon.’

  Gasps filled the hall. All but Perdew, the longest serving Councilor at the table, leaped to their feet. Elodi tried to speak over them. ‘Please, please sit. Let us not panic.’ She scanned the faces around the table, suddenly feeling like the Archon as he had reported on the activity behind the gate. Gundrul banged his fists on the table, silencing the room.

  Elodi nodded. ‘Thank you, Captain.’ She turned to each member in turn. ‘While I agree this is not what we want to hear, I have great faith in the forces I have at my disposal in the city. The defenses may be ancient, but they remain strong, built to last by our ancestors who faced vastly more powerful forces.’ Her back straightened as her words took hold. ‘I have sent riders to the surrounding villages so more people, and reserves, will arrive over the next few days.’

  ‘But what of supplies, ma’am?’ She turned to Perdew. He cleared his throat. ‘Apologies for the interruption, ma’am. But with extra mouths to feed, how long can we hold out should the raid result in a siege?’

  Elodi held up a hand. ‘No need to apologize, Councilor Perdew.’ She tapped her finger on the natural harbor marked out on the map. ‘Don’t forget, we have the Celestra sitting in our dock undergoing repairs as we speak. And while we still hold the port, we can use her to bring grain and supplies from the old docks to the south.’