An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  Kefier was suddenly very aware of his heartbeat. He swallowed. “This true?”

  “That’s why we’re all the way out here. The boy is camp help. He stole money. Isn’t that right, Benai?”

  “Yes,” Benai said. “Like I said—”

  “Please don’t give me back to them.” The boy’s voice was feeble. He lay where he had fallen, Xyl hovering protectively over him. Her ears were flat against her head. “They fed the other children to a monster.” He looked at Kefier pleadingly.

  “A monster,” Kefier repeated. He tried to find the Kag words for it. He walked back to Benai. The man opened his mouth and he struck him with the flat of his blade. “Who’s your client?”

  Benai pursed his lips. He struck him a second time, hitting bone. The man groaned and rolled away from him. The other man was slowly backing away with his hands in the air. “What’s the big deal? This has got nothing to do with you.”

  “Who,” he repeated, “is your client?”

  “This big company,” the man said. “Yn Garr Industries. Now let us go, before I—”

  They were the last words he ever spoke. Walking backwards, he stepped right over the edge of a chasm that hadn’t been there moments before. Black tendrils wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him down. He never even had the chance to scream.

  “Oh fucking Agartes, what is it doing out here?” Benai cried out.

  Kefier hardly heard him. His eyes were on the cliff edge, at the tendrils that were now crawling over the ground. Something heavy was pulling itself up. He felt a tug, like a woman’s breath on his ear, and felt his heart lurch over his throat.

  An ambling, two-legged creature appeared where the tendrils ended. In place of a face, a single, pulsating eye rolled around the sunken head. It was enormous—blood-flecked, veined. Tiny maggots crawled over the glassy surface and some fell in time with the creature’s step, dropping along the deep black pools the creature’s feet left behind. The creature glanced at its surroundings with fervour before settling its sights towards Kefier. It stopped. You!

  Its voice was like a stab in the dark.

  Oji, he heard. His voice now, not the creature’s. Oji, snap out of it. What’s wrong with you? You’re starting to piss me off. Oji—!

  He almost threw himself at the creature, his sword raised. But a cold spell struck him from behind and he fell forward, his hands and feet engulfed by the sensation of being rope-bound. His face to the dirt, he saw Moon’s sandals pass him by and heard Sapphire’s strong voice above the din.

  “If that’s what I think it is, then we have to capture it, Moon.”

  “Are you insane?” Moon’s own voice was shrill, in contrast. “Has that tea you’ve been slurping finally made its way to your brain? The master warned us to stay away if we ever met one of its entities. Together we wouldn’t have the power to fight it, let alone capture it. Look at it!”

  “I’m looking. What do you suggest, Moon? Step aside and let it walk on by? Offer it milk and cookies?”

  “When we get back home I am going straight to Master Bannal to make a formal request to have you cured of sarcasm. Sapphire, I’m...” Kefier pulled his head up and saw her drop forward like a leaf. She started shaking, as if she was trying to fight something. Her lips began moving and he heard her murmuring a warding chant.

  “Leave my sister alone,” Sapphire said, facing the creature. She lifted her hands. A ball of flames erupted from her fingertips and hurtled itself against the beast. It fell back, groaning, but the attack barely singed it. It shook itself and took another slow step, the ground melting around it.

  “Can use your help any minute now, Moon,” Sapphire drawled.

  But Moon couldn’t hear her, couldn’t respond. Kefier rolled to one side and called out, “Call off your spell on me! I’ve still got a sword.”

  “You must want to die so badly,” Sapphire murmured, sweat running down the sides of her face. “My spells won’t even work against this creature. What makes you think a pathetic piece of metal would cause a dent on it? If you want to help me go and wake Moon up.”

  They were interrupted by a reptilian screech from above. A dragon appeared, perhaps the same one they had seen that morning. It circled them like a bird of prey. Sapphire’s brow crinkled and she slowly stepped to where Moon lay. Out of all their figures, only the creature’s stood apart. It was still walking slowly towards them, devoid of all sense of urgency.

  The dragon spotted it. It screeched a second time. The creature’s eye rolled up to focus on its new aggressor. The dragon opened its mouth, revealing rows of jagged teeth. It grabbed the creature’s shoulder, intending to take it to flight. There was a guttural scream. Still holding the creature in its grip, the dragon lost control of its wings and tumbled over the edge of the cliff, taking the creature with it.

  Moon regained her senses and pulled herself up. “Is it dead?” she murmured, her face ashen. “We should take a look.”

  “That soiled ground is not good to step on,” Sapphire replied. She helped Moon to her feet and snapped her fingers, releasing Kefier’s bonds. He tumbled forward and immediately began looking for Benai. He saw the man quivering behind rocks several feet away.

  Sapphire caught up with him. She bent over and placed a hand around Benai’s bleeding arm. “Where is your master?”

  “You’re looking at him,” Benai hissed. “I was hired for one thing alone. I’ve never even seen the guy. I can’t tell you what he looks like, let alone where he is.”

  “And that one thing is?” Her grip around his arm tightened and Kefier could’ve sworn he saw flames dancing in her eyes. Benai’s breathing became laboured. He struggled to kick dirt in her face, but she simply moved her head.

  “All right!” Benai gasped. “We’ve been feeding that—that thing you saw.”

  “With children,” Kefier finished for him.

  Benai turned to him and spat. “Yes, with children. Why do you look so surprised, Kefier? Weren’t you willing to sign the same contract? I heard Thiar denied it to you, so you killed him.”

  Kefier’s jaw tightened. “The only job we spoke about involved transporting ore.”

  “That was a lie. I shouldn’t say that. That was a front. He took you to the caverns outside Cairntown?” Benai grinned, despite looking like he was in tremendous pain. “That was the creature’s spit. Not everybody reacts to it the same way. If you could withstand it, he takes you further.”

  “He sent us to our deaths.”

  “Us?” Benai narrowed his eyes. “Oh. Your friend. Back then, they were holding it up in the mines in Hartmur. You couldn’t have gotten into the bowels of the cavern without falling to your deaths. What killed your friend again?”

  There was an accusing note in his voice. Kefier slammed his fist into the man’s face and stepped away. Sapphire took over the questioning. He didn’t stay to listen to their conversation, and instead found Xyl and the boy, who had fallen unconscious once more.

  “It’s gone,” Xyl told him. She pulled her tail close to her body and glanced down the cliff. The black pools were spreading, along with the smell of rotting bodies.

  Kefier knelt beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You mean forever?”

  “For now.” She wrinkled her nose and turned back to the boy. “He is hurting. Needs food, needs rest.”

  “I’ve been selfish,” Kefier murmured. “Yes, you’re right, Xyl.” He picked the boy up, allowing his head to rest on his shoulder. He sauntered over to Moon, who was still staring in the distance.

  “We need to get him to town,” he told her.

  Moon nodded without looking at him. “Kalthekar is not far. It would be better if we had horses.” She shook her head. “That dragon was...unexpected. I don’t think the master would be happy things ended up this way. I can still sense its presence. If only we knew what’s going on down there. Sapphire,” she added, glancing at her sister who was now resolutely walking towards them. “Can’t we check? I’m su
re the master would want us to.”

  “If we all die trying, then the master won’t know anything at all,” she said sharply. “We will gather a party of mages when we get back. That will give us ample opportunity to prepare.” She glanced at the unconscious boy. “I suppose we’ll have to pass by Kalthekar first. We’re almost out of supplies, anyway.”

  “What about Benai?” Kefier asked.

  “Who? Oh, the Yn Garr hire. He wasn’t your friend, was he?” She briefly glanced at the streak of blood on her robes. “No need to worry about him anymore.”

  After so many months living in the wilderness, Kefier found the transition to the smoke-filled, tapestry-laden Gasparian society difficult. The scent of tobacco and incense burned his throat and had him coughing almost as soon as they set foot in Kalthekar, and the colourful banners and clothing made him dizzy. Gasparians were also notoriously tall, and even though Kefier easily towered over the average Jin, he felt dwarfed walking amongst them in the streets.

  Sapphire and Moon, in contrast, did not seem to have the same problems as he did. Despite their Jinsein features, they blended in well, speaking the dialect fluently and acting as if they were one of the locals themselves.

  The food, however, more than made up for it. It felt good to be able to eat when one was hungry, instead of having to forage or hunt. Gasparian cuisine was very heavy, full of oils and spices. Kefier found himself enjoying a platter of lightly fried, and still nearly raw, lamb, covered in an oily, red sauce and mixed with an assortment of chopped desert fruits. Although it was unlike him, he had also ordered a glass of dark ale. There was a hint of red in it.

  The Gasparian tavern was noisy and full of foreigners, so nobody bothered Kefier with a second glance. Most of the talk revolved around Jinsein accusations of Gasparians attacking their border guard. The K’an of Al-ir was claiming that a band of misfits—rebels, or bandits—were responsible. There was still no word from Jin-Sayeng, but that was to be expected. The country did not even know where their king was, let alone how to deal with a situation so far out in the borders. Everyone knew that Jin-Sayeng officials rarely ventured out of the capital.

  A red-haired boy—a Kag—poked his head through one of the windows near Kefier’s bench and whistled to the barkeep. “My master’s dragon wants a cherry pie,” he said. “Can you get some?”

  The barkeeper chased him off with a growl. As the boy disappeared, he turned to Kefier and snorted. “Kags walk in here. Think they own the land. You Kag?”

  “No sir,” Kefier quickly said. “The language is an inconvenient necessity.”

  “Don’t look it. How you like your meal?”

  “It’s very good. The ale is excellent.”

  “I saw you come in with Bannal’s women. Mages. They hire you?” He nodded, and the man frowned. “Don’t trust them. We are close, you know, to Bannal’s isle. The things I have heard. The things I have seen. Those mages, you know, they come here sometimes. Cause trouble.”

  Kefier popped a piece of lamb in his mouth. “They seem kind so far.”

  “Everyone is kind. Until you are not useful anymore.” The man tipped his head and walked away, leaving Kefier to mull over his words.

  He returned to his room later, with a plate of flatbread stuffed with the rest of the meat platter and a glass of milk. He placed these on a ledge by the windowsill and approached the boy.

  The boy was still asleep. They’d arrived early that morning, and except for occasionally opening his eyes he had remained asleep the whole day. Kefier paused for a moment to watch the mop of curls fall over the boy’s forehead and wondered why it seemed to him that all Jinseins looked alike. The thought came and went. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently shook him awake.

  The boy’s eyes shot open. “Mama...” he started. He saw Kefier and his face fell. “It was a dream,” he stated blankly. He looked distressed about that.

  “I’m afraid so.” Kefier pointed to the windowsill. “You need to eat.”

  The boy pulled himself out of the bed and got the food. He was smart and ate slowly, taking sips of milk in between. It seemed to take forever. Finally he stopped and looked at Kefier. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For being so weak. I couldn’t even walk back here.” He glanced down. “Is that thing gone?”

  “As far as we’re concerned.” Kefier pulled a chair close to him. “Where does your mother live? I can take you home after I get Sapphire and Moon safely back to their master.”

  The boy glanced up at him. “You’d do that?”

  “Well...” Kefier scratched his cheek and tried to grin. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “You don’t know who I am.” The boy looked down. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I left home. I left my mother. They won’t want me back. I’m—I’ve brought shame to my family.” He grew silent and sat very still.

  Kefier crossed his arms. “Then I’ll take you across the border to Jin-Sayeng. Better you’re out among your own countrymen. You won’t survive here long.”

  “The closest town from the border is twelve days’ ride away,” the boy murmured. It was strange to hear a boy who couldn’t be more than nine years old speak that way. He must’ve been educated—his mealtime manners betrayed a good upbringing, which was rare in the children Kefier had met from Cairntown.

  He tried to hide his amusement. “Then we’ll ride twelve days. I’m Ke-if, by the way. The Kags insist on calling me Kefier, so take your pick. What’s yours? It will be difficult to converse if you don’t tell me.”

  The boy was silent.

  Kefier shrugged. “If that’s how you want it. You should rest now—Sapphire will want to be up early tomorrow. Keep the bed. I’ll take that comfortable spot by the door.” He stretched and sat down on the rug. It was an ideal spot for tripping uninvited visitors.

  He heard the boy rustling as he returned to the bed. There were a few moments of silence, and then he heard the boy murmur in a voice barely more than a squeak, “Dai. My name is Dai.”

  Kefier nodded. “Nice to meet you, Dai.”

  Interlude

  “When I was a boy,” the old man says, his wrinkled head shining in the sunlight. “I saw the fairy king. He was as tall as you, my dear, and as white as the snow they say covers the mountains in the lands to the north.”

  Camden watches the enraptured look on the children’s faces and finds himself smiling, in spite of himself. For a moment, he forgets that he is no longer a child, and draws closer to the story-teller: a Jin, travelling all the way to Cael to weave his craft. The man moves gracefully for his age, his words making vivid images of the castles and the forests and the fairies, his arms gesturing as he speaks. At one point he reaches out with one hand as if striking with a sword, and the boy nearest to him drops his kitten and cries for his mother.

  Camden smiles, catching the kitten before it scampers out to the street, and returns it to its master. The little boy looks up at him, green eyes like stars, and he suddenly remembers Calum. How he used to look whenever he would bring him trinkets from town, the way he would grab his hand in delight because “N’uncle Camden’s visiting again!” If things had gone differently, and he had more courage and asked Maira before Arell did, would Cal have been his? Does thinking like that ever make a difference in this world?

  He notices the children leaving. The story-teller, it seems, has finished. He walks up to the man and hands him a generous coin. The Jin glances up, blinking, and then grins toothily. “This will help,” the old man admits.

  “I’m thinking you’re a long way from home,” Camden agrees.

  The old man looks at him. “Not just me. How long are you staying here for?”

  Much, much later, while he sits in a tavern and contemplates the menu, he realizes he never did respond to that question. How long for, indeed. His family is waiting for him, after all, and he has already sent a letter to Maira, telling her of the necklace. He hasn’t told her that he thinks Cal
um is dead. Going home will confirm this. But if he stays in Cael, for all she knows, he is still following leads, and that the necklace is a sign of hope rather than despair. For all she knows, he will be bringing Cal home with him on the next ship.

  The serving girl arrives to pour him warm, dark ale. As he sips it, he looks past his shoulder and sees a man arguing with three others. The man, in particular, draws his attention because he has a Jinsein’s dark hair, save for a white forelock drawn over his face. “He can’t have just disappeared,” he is saying, angry. The other men are shaking their heads.

  “Why are you suddenly so concerned, Gaven? Wasn’t it you who let him run off in the first place?”

  The man laughs nervously. “No. Baeddan had me do it. I mean to kill him this time around, when I’ve caught up with him.”

  The other men look at each other. The one called Gaven snarls at them; his eyes are bloodshot, and clearly this is disconcerting to the men. “Look,” one says. “We don’t want trouble. If you want to keep looking for him, go ahead. It’s been months since we lost him, Gaven, and for all we know, he’s dead. We’ve got other things to do and we’re under Algat’s orders, not yours. What about your men?”

  “Algat stripped off his rank,” one murmurs under his breath.

  Gaven whirls at him. “The hell he did! He doesn’t have the authority!”

  “Then why are you alone here, Gaven?” the man asks.

  He roars, sending his arm flying back. A clay pitcher breaks behind him. The patron steps out of the bar to speak to him, but Gaven lashes at him instead. “This is a despicable place.” He hisses the words out, then glares at the men one last time. “If you won’t help me, Agartes rot your souls…!”

  He walks out. Camden watches the door close behind him, remembering the name Algat, and Kefier, who had accompanied him after escaping from Vildar. He doesn’t know where Kefier has gone to—he has disappeared in the night many months ago, Mother knows where. He is not sure if he likes the man or not, but he was kind to him, and he has often wished him well, since then. Out of impulse, he drops several coins on the table and heads outside.