Revenant

by Bevan McGuiness

  It’s deliberate.

  Simultaneously with that realisation came the sounds of three more people approaching him. They were moving fast, running to his position. Slave did not have time for niceties. He sprinted up the outcrop, running towards the sound of one of his attackers.

  They met near the top of the rock. Slave shoulder-charged the man, hitting him hard in the chest, sending him reeling backward. As the man staggered, thrown off balance by the impact, Slave took advantage and slammed his fist hard into his face. The man’s head snapped back, crashing into the rock. His body slumped, unconscious, but Slave was already moving. The next Tulugma had seen what Slave had done and was readying to throw something. Slave dodged aside as a dagger flew past his shoulder. He sent his Claw back the way the dagger had come, but with better effect. The Tulugma went down with a gurgling cry. Slave ran at him, retrieving his Claw from his throat before heading towards the next Tulugma.

  This one, another woman, threw down her weapon as Slave ran at her. She held her hands high, palms outward, and lowered herself to her knees.

  ‘I am looking for the man known as the Slave of Sondelle,’ she said. Her accent was Rilaman, although her colouring marked her as Asprosian.

  ‘Why?’ Slave asked as he continued to approach her.

  ‘We were told to find him and bring him to the Kuriltai.’

  ‘By whom?’

  The woman was disciplined and well trained, but she had flicked her gaze too often beyond Slave’s left shoulder. There was someone there, no doubt either slowly approaching him or taking aim with a bow. Slave continued to approach the kneeling woman, keeping alert for what had to be behind him.

  It was just as Slave reached her that the man behind him made his mistake — a heavy step that gave away his position. Slave dropped to his knee as he spun around, sending his Claw towards the sound. It caught the Tulugma just below the breastbone. Slave followed its trajectory only until it crunched into the man’s body then quickly switched his attention back to the kneeling woman.

  She was already rising to her feet, but Slave attacked before she was fully balanced. He hit her fast with a blow to her throat, following up with a fist to the stomach. As she staggered under the force of the blows, Slave hit her again with two rapid punches to the side of the head. She went down and lay still.

  Keshik ran up the outcrop, swords drawn, eyes angry. He took in the scene at a glance, sheathing his swords.

  ‘They attacked you?’ he asked.

  Slave walked to the dead man, stooped and pulled his Claw from the body.

  ‘They did.’

  ‘One surprised me, tried to take me captive, but I killed him,’ Keshik said.

  ‘But you walked loudly when he had you.’

  ‘You heard that,’ Keshik said with a tight grin. ‘I thought you would.’

  Slave gave a curt nod. ‘Thanks, it alerted me.’

  ‘Not that you needed it, I imagine.’

  ‘No, they were very skilled. One surprised me.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t think that was possible.’

  ‘It is. In fact, she shot me.’ It suddenly occurred to Slave that he should have been in much more pain from the wound. An arrow in the back should have left him either dead or badly wounded. He felt like he was merely bruised.

  ‘Where were you shot?’ Keshik asked.

  Slave turned to show Keshik where the arrow had struck him. Keshik examined the spot, giving a grunt of surprise.

  ‘She must have used a blunted arrow,’ Keshik said.

  ‘And she lowered her aim, to shoot me in the leg,’ Slave recalled.

  ‘So they weren’t looking to kill you, then.’

  ‘They knew I was coming, they asked who I was.’

  ‘Did you leave any alive?’

  Slave nodded and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘She should still be alive.’

  Keshik gave the motionless woman a glance. ‘You really think so?’

  ‘Should be. I didn’t hit her that hard.’

  Keshik crossed to kneel beside her. He felt for the pulse in her neck, relieved when he found its steady beat. She was injured, unconscious, but still strong. He looked up to give Slave the news, only to stare into the blue-pupilled eyes of the spurre, Tatya. He flinched involuntarily. Tatya gave a rumbling growl and sat down, less than a pace from him.

  ‘Go away,’ Keshik muttered.

  Tatya did not move.

  Slave walked and stood beside the big shapeshifter. He rested his hand on her head, almost unconsciously, it seemed to Keshik.

  ‘She makes me nervous,’ Keshik said.

  ‘Good,’ said Tatya.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Keshik asked.

  Tatya turned her head to regard Slave. Keshik noted that sitting down, she was not far from looking eye to eye at Slave. She was easily the biggest spurre Keshik had ever seen and with the intelligence of a shapeshifter, she was a daunting presence. He had never really understood what Maida had told him about the Link, except that Tatya was still angered as well as humiliated by it. Anger, humiliation, size and intelligence made for an unpredictable companion.

  ‘He wants me here,’ Tatya said, her eyes still fixed on Slave.

  ‘And the wyvern?’

  ‘Haron is vlekkenvorm like me. She is here because he wants her here.’

  ‘And the julle?’

  Tatya gave a throaty growl. ‘He came looking for her.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘Myrrhini,’ Slave said. ‘The julle are hunting for Myrrhini all over the world. As are the spurre and wyverns.’

  ‘Why?’

  The Tulugma woman on the ground stirred, groaning as her eyes flickered open. She saw Slave and tried to rise, but her injuries forced her to slump back down.

  ‘Why are you looking for me?’ Slave asked.

  The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I was just told to find you and take you back to the Kuriltai.’

  ‘Who told you?’ Keshik asked.

  She turned to regard Keshik. ‘Ild Keshik,’ she said.

  Keshik held up his hand to forestall any further words. ‘I am no longer Ild,’ he said. ‘Just Keshik.’

  ‘I am Evalyne,’ the Tulugma woman said. ‘The Elbar wants to speak with you.’

  ‘The Elbar?’ Keshik exclaimed. ‘Why would he want to speak with me?’

  ‘And him,’ Evalyne added, flicking her glance across to Slave. ‘He sent twenty of us out scouting for the two of you days ago.’

  Evalyne seemed about to say more, but the sound of Haron’s wings made her look up sharply. Her face registered fear, surprise, then disbelief as the wyvern shapeshifter shimmered into her human form. Haron, the woman, was exceptionally tall with strong arms and legs, black hair that cascaded to almost her knees and utterly black eyes. She stood behind Slave, staring down at Evalyne.

  ‘She’s damaged,’ Haron said. She rested her right hand on Slave’s shoulder. ‘We should leave her for Tatya.’

  Tatya, sitting beside Slave, growled. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Slave ruffled Tatya’s stiff yellow mane. ‘No. We’ll take her back to the Kuriltai with us.’

  ‘I’m not carrying her,’ Haron said.

  22

  The ancient walls of the Kuriltai loomed over the narrow pathway that wound up the mountains. Whoever had carved the path so long ago had done a masterful job in making the approach to a military post so easily defensible. Not to mention the care taken to make it look natural. The Tulugma led Slave, Keshik, Maida, Haron, the julle and Tatya along the winding narrow gorge. Despite the wounds they bore, the Tulugma were alert for attack. Slave was impressed with the skill.

  Keshik was with the Tulugma, heading home. Maida, just behind him, seemed on edge. She sat uneasily in the saddle, constantly looking around, her eyes seeking trouble. Slave was wary. Any attack from the rock walls that rose nearly twenty paces above them on both sides would be lethal. There was no cover anywhere in this gorge, and its winding path made
fast escape difficult. An ambush could be set at any point. Again, Slave shook his head, impressed with those who had built this place. Overhead, the narrow strip of sky showed it was still daylight, but down here in this deep gorge, the shadows were dark and the air was cold.

  He knew the apparently natural end of the gorge ahead were the walls of the Kuriltai from the way the Tulugma were approaching. Their hands were further away from their weapons than normal and their eyes were wide, mostly looking up. They came to a stop about ten paces short of the looming wall.

  Slave watched as one of the Tulugma dismounted and walked ahead to the wall. He rested his hand on the unmarked rock and spoke softly. Slave felt an uncomfortable tingle run over his skin. He hissed. The Kuriltai was protected not only by unsurpassed workmanship, but by magic as well.

  The rock wall gave a shudder and the black outline of a huge door appeared. Without a sound, the door swung inward to reveal the ancient home of the Tulugma.

  It was set in a deep, steep-sided valley at least two hundred paces across. The whole valley floor was dedicated to a training ground with targets, fighting dummies and various other devices arranged in well-defined, separate areas. Opposite the entry gate, set into a sheer cliff, were hundreds of individual living quarters. Each one was marked by a doorway, a window and a narrow staircase carved into the rock that led to the training ground. To the left, Slave could see a similar arrangement while to the right, the whole cliff was given over to a massive carving of a man wielding a sword. He guessed it was a representation of Tulugma. Numerous ropes were fixed to the top of the cliff on either side of the massive carving. In the wall at various height beside the hanging ropes were openings. Slave guessed they led to further training rooms. Climbing the ropes seemed to be the only way into them. Like the winding gorge that led to this place, the whole area was already almost in full shadow as the sun sank into the west with only the top half of the carving still in sunlight.

  The brilliant light showed Slave that the carving was done with the same skill that had produced the natural-looking gorge leading to the Kuriltai. This whole place was a masterpiece, a work of art that transcended age. Little wonder the Tulugma were such skilled warriors, to have been taught in such a place.

  Slave’s examination of the Kuriltai was cut short by a voice addressing him.

  ‘Scaren Beq,’ the voice said.

  Slave tore his gaze from the image of Tulugma to regard the young man addressing him.

  ‘Yes?’ he said.

  ‘The Elbar invites you to meet with him.’

  It was then that Slave noticed the lack of people. He had been so struck by the magnificence of this place that his lifelong discipline had slipped, failing to take note of the most basic things. Suppressing a momentary flicker of anger, he looked again at his surroundings, sensing this time the dozens of hidden watchers. The air here was still, allowing the scents and sounds to be more easily located. At his side Tatya, in spurre form, suddenly growled. Slave rested his hand on her head.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Over there, a man with a spear. He’s vlekkenvorm.’

  Slave looked with surprise to where Tatya had indicated. He could not see anyone, but the outline of the target was not quite right, something at the left betrayed an additional figure. As he concentrated, he could smell the sweat, hear the sounds of a man who had been practising recently. How Tatya knew he was armed with a spear, he did not know.

  ‘I didn’t know the Tulugma took in shapeshifters,’ Slave said to the young man waiting patiently.

  ‘We train anyone who shows talent.’

  ‘Why does the Elbar want us?’ Keshik demanded.

  ‘He did not say, Keshik,’ the young man answered. He was the most average man Slave had ever seen, with light brown hair, brown eyes, of average build and height; nothing about him would attract the slightest attention. Slave wondered if he were one of those Keshik referred to as a Silent One — the assassins of the order. Certainly this young-seeming man could pass unnoticed through most crowds Slave had seen.

  ‘Take us to him then, Jakob,’ Keshik instructed.

  Slave frowned. If Keshik knew this man, he must be a great deal older than he appeared. This alone almost confirmed his suspicions that the man had to be Habigga. Jakob turned and walked towards the cliff directly opposite the entrance. He led them to a door set into the rock at ground level.

  The door was wood, apparently unlocked. There was a window to its left, through which shone a steady light. Jakob rapped sharply on the door.

  ‘Come in, Jakob,’ a voice called from inside.

  He pushed open the door and stepped aside to allow Slave entrance. Slave walked past him and entered the Elbar’s room. It was not as small as it had appeared from the outside, stretching back at least twenty paces into the mountain with two doors in its back wall leading further into the rock. It was furnished simply but comfortably, with a table, four chairs and a wooden writing desk. Scattered over the stone floor were several woven rugs and the walls were almost covered with bookshelves containing hundreds of books. Slave had not seen so many books since he was in the Ruthia.

  A man rose from one of the chairs as Slave entered. He was muscular and moved like a warrior despite his advancing age. His dark hair was touched with grey, but his eyes sparkled with youthful energy.

  ‘A Scaren Beq, in my room here at the Kuriltai,’ he said. ‘Who would have ever imagined such a thing? And I met a Mertian Traveller just recently who knew you; was looking for you, in fact.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Slave asked.

  The Elbar invited Slave to sit. Slave chose a chair that backed against a wall, so that he could see all three doors. If he noticed the caution in Slave’s choice, the Elbar did not comment as he sat down again.

  ‘The Mertian Traveller? That was Myrrhini, the Eye of Varuun.’

  ‘Myrrhini? She’s dead. I saw her die.’

  ‘She is alive now,’ the Elbar said.

  ‘How can that be?’

  ‘Eztli-Ichtaca is a strange, unpredictable place, Beq.’

  ‘Riddles,’ Slave sighed. ‘You are Mertian, of course.’

  ‘You knew that? Not many do.’

  ‘I am Scaren, of course I recognise the Mertians,’ Slave lied. This man seemed to know a great deal, and like the Readers, he would probably only respect knowledge, despite his obvious martial training. ‘Tell me how Myrrhini survived the Revenant.’

  ‘She went into Eztli-Ichtaca, where she could survive, so of course she did.’

  ‘That does not make any sense.’

  Keshik entered, accompanied by Maida. They sat in the other two chairs.

  ‘Keshik, it has been a long time since you sat in here,’ the Elbar said. Slave felt there was a hint of anger, or bitterness, in his tone.

  ‘Not long enough,’ Keshik growled.

  ‘Grow up!’ the Elbar snapped. ‘It is too long ago, and this is too important to hold old grudges.’

  Keshik shifted in his seat, so as to face away from the Elbar. Slave looked at the two of them, wondering what it might be that Keshik would hold against the man for so long. As he looked, it occurred to him that the two men might not be all that different in age. True, the Elbar’s hair was shot through with grey, but that happened at different ages for all men. Words he’d heard a long time ago, soon after he fled Vogel, came back to him.

  ‘It’s a woman,’ he said without thinking.

  Both men shot him a hard glare. Maida’s look was more amused than irritated.

  ‘Is that true?’ she asked Keshik.

  Keshik had to turn even further around in his chair so as to avoid Maida’s eye as well as the Elbar’s. Maida shook her head and looked to the Elbar.

  ‘You aren’t Adrast, are you?’ she asked. At Maida’s mention of the name, Keshik’s head snapped around to stare at her with disbelief.

  The Elbar laughed. ‘Yes, I am. What has this irascible old bastard told you about me?’

&n
bsp; ‘Nothing,’ Maida assured him. ‘But he has been known to talk in his sleep. For a while after we met, you were often mentioned in his dreams.’

  Keshik had gone a little pale.

  ‘What was her name?’ Maida asked.

  ‘Bai,’ Adrast said. His face went distant as he cast his mind back. ‘She was Gielden, with fair hair, startling green eyes and perfect skin the colour of fertile earth.’ He laughed again. ‘And a temper like a spurre on heat.’

  Maida turned on Keshik. ‘You never told me about her,’ she said with a slightly accusatory tone.

  Keshik gave Adrast a murderous glare. ‘I didn’t want you to think there was anyone else for me,’ he muttered.

  ‘Keshik. I was married when you rescued me — you didn’t think I would accept there had been someone else for you?’

  Keshik continued to glare at Adrast, not answering Maida.

  ‘How serious was it?’ Maida asked Adrast when it became clear that Keshik would not elaborate any further.

  ‘Why do you think he left?’ Adrast said. ‘He was the best Ild we had seen here in an age. There was no one here who could even challenge him, let alone offer him a fair fight. He would have been Subot of Sword, easily, had he stayed. But no, when Bai chose me over him, he ran away like a boy who had had his best toy broken.’

  ‘He said he was exiled in disgrace,’ Slave said.

  ‘He was, but only after he came back from murdering fellow Tulugma.’

  Keshik snarled and went to rise, but Adrast gave a curious flicking gesture with his right hand and Keshik was sent tumbling backward, crashing over his chair and rolling heavily into the wall.

  ‘I could never touch you in a fight, Keshik,’ the Elbar said. ‘But I have different weapons now. Remember that.’

  ‘She chose you?’ Slave asked, ignoring the snarling Keshik rising from the floor. ‘But you speak of her in the past tense. Is she dead?’

  Adrast nodded slowly. ‘A long time ago now. It was a training accident.’

  Slave nodded slowly. That such accidents would happen was no surprise to him. ‘What weapon did she use?’