The Vanguards of Scion

by Michael E. Thom

  Vendronia stood up and took Borlin's hand, a gesture trogs did not do unless someone had lost a family member or worse. Trog did not express empathy or give comfort by touching. It was a display of weakness.

  Borlin pulled away from her and rubbed his hand as if to wipe away dirt.

  Yurka's eyes widened, and she took a couple of steps back as if to leave the room.

  "Wait," Vendronia said. "I want both of you to hear this. I've kept something from you, and I think now is the time to tell you."

  Borlin hooked his thumbs on his belt.

  Vendronia's heart shivered before she began. "During one of my recent summonings to speak with the Watcher someone came to me, but he was not the Watcher. He called himself the King of Scion, and he said he was bestowing a power over insects upon me. I know all the Witch Gods and their kin, yet I have never heard of a King of Scion nor a land called Scion. I thought the Watcher may have sent him to me at first, but now I'm not so sure. There are many things that have happened to me since. I've been having dreams unlike any I've had before. Last night I saw this man in his war camp in my dream, and he spoke to me with a voice that sounded like this King of Scion. The power he demonstrated with his sword; it means something. The reason I had the dream is that I am to spare his life. I cannot say why, but I feel he has more to reveal. I must speak to him when he wakes."

  Borlin and Yurka said nothing for an awkward length of time.

  Yurka said to Borlin, "This man has a demon, and it might be she has one as well. I am not at ease with this story of Kings of Scion. It could be a cuck sorcerer has infiltrated our midst in this new Crone Mother. I say you lock them both up and decide. Put them together, and we shall see what the cuck man does to her. Keep his sword for you, Varl Borlin, and if the Witch God wishes for them to serve the trog, she will make a sign for us to see that it be so. If not, they either kill each other or we will do it ourselves."

  Borlin's disfigured face became solemn. He glanced downward in contemplation. "You're being a little extreme. Vendronia was the adopted child of Crone Mother Ona. Ona gave her to us with her blessing on her death bed.

  I do not like this cuck man here, and I do not like that we are allowing Vendronia to heal him. But the Crone Mother is wise, and it is a curse to question her wisdom even if we do not yet understand it.

  I also agree that it is a dangerous thing and that cuck sorcery may be involved. Our people may turn to mutiny if we do not act in caution. Therefore, it is my judgment as Varl that we build a cage and lock them both up until the cuck is healed, and we can decide then what should be done."

  Vendronia bit down on her lip inside her mouth. Yage root would make her feel so much better. She couldn't partake of it in front of them, and if they indeed locked her up in a cage, she wouldn't be able to get to it. "I will agree to this, but could I please have a moment alone to speak with the Witch God about this man for guidance?"

  Borlin turned to Yurka, raising his brows.

  Yurka shrugged.

  "Very well, I will grant this," said Borlin to Vendronia. "But I'm sending Yurka to get some trog warriors to begin building a formidable cage from some fortification stakes. It should only take about an hour with four or five warriors. I will wait out in the hallway." He turned to Yurka again. "I also want you, Yurka, to post a man outside to watch the window so as no one leaves this room."

  Vendronia smirked. "Do what you must to please them." Did he really think she would run? Or did he think this man was going to jump up from the bed and charge out onto the roof of the inn? She cared for little else right now besides getting a bit of yage root and talking to this cuck man.

  "You are trog, Crone Mother," Borlin reminded her.

  "Torvul said I was, but only for what felt like a moment," Vendronia lamented. "I know I'm not born trog. Being trog by blood is obviously something different, it seems. I feel like no matter what I do to prove my worth and loyalty, it only lasts for a brief flash before I'm reminded that I do not share your blood."

  Borlin sighed. He put his large hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. It must be this way for now. I do not think you have betrayed us or have been dishonest, but many trog still hold prejudices that are unfounded. This is the best way." Borlin picked up the cuck's longsword Vendronia had placed on the floor in its scabbard beside the bed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Vendronia really needed the yage root now. She put a hand behind her and made a fist, squeezing so tight she could feel her nails biting into her palm. What would happen if the cuck awoke before they had them both in the cage?

  24

  KAZIMIR

  Kazimir couldn't stop shaking.

  A chill clung to his body and sent periodic tremors to his limbs and jaw. This is what the Star Priests meant about touching the Forever Dark, the Belazonian well of wicked souls where there was no light only a cold that hurt like razors on the skin. The Star Priests used it as a warning to those injured while doing something unfavorable and foolish to the universe. He had passed out riding in front of Xolin on a camel more times than he could count on their way to somewhere.

  He wasn't sure of anything, but he overheard a conversation between Nochtli and Xolin. Nochtli had said something about a wonderful place he'd discovered that sold exotic items and trinkets. His arm throbbed. Twinges of pain shot up into his elbow and shoulder. He knew it was impossible, but the place where his hand should feel like it was burning. His nonexistent fingers felt like they were being stretched back near breaking.

  Xolin kept giving him sips of water and talking to him, trying to keep him conscious long enough to get him wherever they were going. Kazimir couldn't wait for a soft place to lie down. He watched as they passed brick merchant buildings, most closed for the night. They came to a narrow shop with an orange light glowing through the doorway drapery. Someone had painted a row of white skulls around the doorway. A sign above it read in common: The Chamber of Wonder and Deviance.

  "This is it," said Nochtli. "The proprietor was a curious fellow calling himself Waulox Pernudrom. It's really unfortunate what happened to Master Kazimir. He would've loved exploring this place while in better spirits. I was excited to tell him about it when you came storming out from the inn with that wild-eyed look on your face, but I could see why. Anyways, I hope when the Master comes around, he appreciates that he's not in a stable with camel dung."

  "Did he really say we could stay the night free of charge?" asked Gretta. "It seems unlikely in this city. Everyone here is so self-serving. I bet there's a catch. He might be a sick-minded killer. What if he wants to chop us up into pieces and sell our body parts?"

  "Well, at least we've given him a head start," Nochtli said. "He won't be getting Kazimir's right hand." He giggled through his nose.

  "That's not funny right now, Nochtli," said Xolin, his voice loud now in Kazimir's ear. "Master Kazimir could very well die if we don't get him a safe place to rest for the night where we can care for him. At the very least he's lost his hand. How will he perform any spells without it?"

  Kazimir opened his eyes wide with that thought. What would he do without his hand? The spells hardly worked proper as it was when he used the precise gesturing. Now he couldn't do any of the spells that required two-handed gestures. Very few illusions required only one hand, and even those required one's dominant hand. He had been right-handed. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He had to keep his mind on the purpose for this journey, for everything that had happened and would happen from this point on. He had to find the ravnaz woman. The secrets she might hold. The magic of her kind flowing in her blood. He would love to get a vial of that. Imagine the possibilities. A transfusion might even imbue her magic on another. What might it do for someone like himself, the black skinned, the starforged race? He wouldn't even need to use his hand if the stories about the ravnaz magic were true. He had to know. He had to live to find out.

  "Greetings, travelers!" said an old dusky man, clothed in many laye
rs of beige and olive green. He had a rustic looking ring on every finger and wisps of white hair danced around his large ears. The top of his head was spotty and bald. He had thin lips pursed inward. "Welcome to the Chamber of Wonder and Deviance. I've met Nochtli here, and he told me you might need a place to sleep tonight." The old man paused when he saw Kazimir's stump. "Great Blackened Sun! Is he alright? You should get him in the cellar quickly! I can bring him some kratom tea for his pain." He pressed his hands together and dipped his head slightly. "I'm Waulox Pernudom, by the way. Nice to meet all your friends, Nochtli. You all can leave your camels around back in the alley. That's where the entrance to the cellar is anyways."

  Xolin said, "Thank you so much!" He spurred his camel and the others followed him and Kazimir to the back of the shop. Waulox came out from a rickety back door with a bright oil lantern.

  He hobbled over to a large wooden door on the ground and shooed away several of the brown lizards hiding in the surrounding shadows. He opened the door to reveal a stone staircase going down below the floors of the shop. "Somebody come down with me first and I'll show them around a bit and let you all get your camels tied down and unpacked, so we can get your friend some relief."

  Nochtli went down with him and after a moment they emerged. "Looks better than a stable. A bit dusty and stale. Lots of old bottles and stuffed creatures. A few of those brown lizards. Zexultan is infested with those things."

  "Sand dragons. Yes, indeed." Waulox coughed, and had to clear his throat before continuing, "Herrrhem! . . . They feed off the refuse of many local vendors and multiply like crazy. They are a nuisance. They're quite the cuisine in the poor district, though I hear the meat is bitter and dangerous due to their acidic saliva. They're harmless unless there's a female in heat around. Then they can be quite aggressive." Waulox shrugged and headed for the back door. "I'll get to brewing that kratom tea. It's the best thing for pain, those kratom leaves. Stuff will make it where you can't feel your own face."

  Gretta averted her eyes from Waulox and said, "You could use that for a lot of things."

  Xolin side-eyed Gretta after that statement.

  "I imagine so," said Kazimir, taking deep breaths and trying to keep his thoughts away from his severed limb. Oddly enough, he hadn't felt as much pain as he expected. He assumed it was because he was still in shock. "I'm grateful for your kindness."

  "No problem," said Waulox. "We that dabble in the mysteries of the universe need to stick together. I couldn't operate a shop like this south of Red Wolf. They'd burn me at the stake as soon as I pickled a rat."

  * * * *

  An hour later, Kazimir hardly felt anything except regret. The kratom tea had proven to be a wonderful pain reliever. He'd heard of it. They used it some in Belaz City, but the kratom plant wouldn't grow in the deserts of Belaz. It was only used by healers in extreme circumstances and usually only for the rich. He planned to take some with him for sure when they got back on the road.

  Waulox had turned out to be a fair healer himself. He had cleaned Kazimir's wound and had cauterized it by igniting a powder that flashed brighter than flames. Even under the numbing of the kratom, he had felt a sting when the heat sizzled his flesh. Now, he lay on several layers of animal fur in the corner of the storage cellar. No one had spoken much once Waulox had gone back up to his shop for the night. Xolin and Nochtli keep milling about the cellar with candles. They inspected all the bizarre artifacts Waulox had stored down here.

  Kazimir wanted to join them, but he hadn't the strength to stand. He had eaten some dried ox strips and a few crusts of bread Waulox had brought down. That had only provided him with enough energy to comprehend the awful mistake he'd made. The saddest part was that he only needed one hand to count how many spells he might be able to cast. He could only think of three. All three required the dominant hand. There was: Convincing Witness, Minor Object Shroud, and Pebble Light. He'd never tried them on his left hand.

  "Master, you're sitting up. Are you feeling well?" Xolin asked, as he came to check on him.

  Kazimir forced a half-smile and made a tiny wave with his only hand. "I'm alive at least. I might give up Leaves and Hearts. I've lost my mojo on it. It's a devastating thing to have to ponder, losing a hand. I never realized how important being able to pick things up and scratch your nose when your other hand was occupied could be. Alas, it gives me credence to research new forms of Alchemy and Magic all the more. We're still going to find this woman. I suggest we head out tomorrow. Find anything interesting in all that dust?"

  Xolin crooked a brow. "Well, actually yes, I mean, there's a--"

  "Door!" Gretta finished for him, bouncing up and down with excitement. "There's a door in the far back. It goes somewhere. I bet the wonderful things are on the other side of it."

  "No!" said Kazimir. "Waulox was gracious enough to let us stay in his cellar for the night. We're not going to pilfer through his private things any more than we already have."

  Gretta looked defeated. "There are so many interesting things in here. Imagine what he else he has. I bet he doesn't even remember himself in his age. Already, we've found a two-headed snake in a jar, two stuffed owls, and a book bound with what looks like fair human skin. Several jars of black liquid."

  "Wait, you said you found a book?" Kazimir to a deep breath and stood.

  "Why yes master," Nochtli said as he approached. He had the book in his hand and opened it, standing close to Kazimir to show him as he turned through the pages.

  It looked old, the pages brittle and near crumbling. Ink drawings of strange creatures Kazimir had never seen lay on every page. Beneath the drawings were words in an old language that seemed familiar to him. It was in the same family as the civilization that predated the starforged Belazonians. The light-skinned binding would account for that as well.

  "Give that to me," said Kazimir, snatching it from Nochtli's hands with his left. "And show me this door."

  Nochtli's eyes widened. "And there he goes," he said, throwing his hands up. "Just show him an old book, and he'll shrug away his moral code in a blink."

  Kazimir put the book in his belt pouch. "At times, the secrets of lost knowledge trumps basic ethics. Rediscovering it can make a difference for millions of lives."

  "That is why you are the master, and we are the apprentices," said Xolin.

  Nochtli's eyes wandered.

  Gretta grabbed Kazimir's cloak. "This way! The door is back here! You two bring your candles so he can see!"

  Years of undisturbed dust spilled from the hinges and crevices of the dense wooden door. The rusted hinges groaned when Gretta pulled it open. Small sand dragons flitted out from beneath it and scurried to find another cool place to hide.

  Nochtli stepped inside, waving his candle around to get a good view.

  It was a narrow storage room with shelves from ceiling to floor all crammed tight with cobweb festooned books.

  Kazimir's eyes glistened. He completely forgot about his missing hand for a moment. He stepped inside and started to wipe away caked dust from book spines, hoping they had some form of identification on them.

  "Wow!" Gretta said, elated. "This reminds me of that time I visited a sorcerer in East Paras. He had so many dusty books. He turned his dog into a frog right in front of me. What was his name? Phorcys the Diviner, I think. I could take you to meet him too, if you like, so long as we don't stop in Eurovoth. I don't like the people there very much." She snatched a book from the shelf, wiping the dust from it before she sneezed.

  "Be careful with that!" snapped Kazimir, reaching for it with his stump before realizing how pointless that was. He settled back his limb, his face hollow.

  "Dog into a frog. Ey?" asked Xolin. "Never heard of such magic. Do they have to rhyme for it to work?"

  Gretta narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you patronizing me? You think I'm lying?"

  "Well, it's just that." Xolin sighed. "We've never heard of such magic and, from what we know about the south, they've outlawed it."
/>   "This is really far south, though," she told him. "Almost to the coldest place in the world. I've been there too. People live in cottages made of ice bricks there."

  Kazimir rolled his eyes. When he did, he caught a glimpse of a lone jar on an eye-level shelf to the back of the small room. What he saw inside it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A severed hand with red skin and long claws floated in a dingy solution. He took Xolin's candle from him and moved in to get a better look. Thin sharp red spines had grown from the back of the hand. Behind the jar, he saw a book bound in red skin. "My friends. I think we've found something worth compromising our moral code. That is a ravnaz hand, a female bloodskin, one severed when she was shape-shifted!"

  "Too bad it's a left hand," said Xolin. "Not that you would be able to sew it on yourself, scientifically impossible for sure, but-- oh never mind! There I go again, being presumptuous."

  25

  AEILE

  Aeile trudged forward in the rain, her blond hair stuck to her cheeks and neck.

  She never understood how much she loved the chill of rain on her skin until she became incapable of experiencing it. Her body had changed. Now, it felt only dampness, no cold or warmth. The rainstorm breeze pushed onto her flesh and nothing more. Her skin, her flesh, her entire body remained at whatever temperature the environment she was in.

  Small columns of white smoke rose from chimneys up ahead as they approached Red Fish Town. An hour away from dawn, many fishermen had risen to get their boats in the river for the first catch of the day. The scent of wood burning stoves permeated the air. She almost smiled at this because it reminded her of home, but one glance back at the two who followed her drained her of comforting thought. Even so, she was grateful to still have her sense of smell in this de Nekros thing, whatever it was.