It was being dragged behind a house.
“Blood to ice, please don't be what I think it is.” Kaiel murmured and sent the orm flitting up and over the roof.
“What do you think it is?” Brin asked.
But it was too late to prepare her for it. The orm lighted on the roof and looked down into what had been an open air forge. There, crouched among the anvil, the quenching trough, and all the other accoutrements of the forge was a gigantic, red monster with black antlers and a mouth crammed full of mismatched teeth.
As they watched, those teeth set to work as the demon lifted the body of the lesser demon and crunched down into it, powerful mandibles grinding, tearing and shredding the corpse as a barbed tongue drew it further down the gullet.
Kaiel shuddered. He knew that demon from his studies. “Bashurra the Crevasse.” He whispered as if the demon could hear him. “The first known record of him is an etching of the Fall of Baiamas in the one hundred and third year after Draconic Control. He's ancient, a pan-khul among the demons of the Threefold Moon: something like a general. He might look like a brute, but he's a skilled spellcrafter and master of military strategy. In fact, the translations of many of the names ancient kingdoms had for him come out to 'Tactics Ogre'. This is phenomenally bad.”
Meanwhile, Brin was watching with disgust as the last of the demonic corpse slid down Bashurra's throat. “He's eating them. Why? Aren't they on the same side? Why would he desecrate those bodies?”
“A Kaydan demon is only on his own side and the Threefold Moon's; they rarely ally with each other willingly.” Kaiel said. “He's eating them because their bodies are full of dark anima: every bite he takes, he grows stronger.”
He cut off the connection suddenly, setting the orm free at the same time. “He's not just going to ambush the army, he's going to annihilate them. We have to stop him before he absorbs the nekras from all those demons.”
Both of them turned back toward Ru and Taylin, who were still arguing.
“They didn't have to give us any help at all.” Taylin was saying, “But they did, and they've been letting us follow them all this time without a word. We can't repay them by letting them die!”
Brin pulled on Kaiel's sleeve. “I can disperse the nekras, maybe even purify the corpses. But he'll know the second I start. Maybe he's not strong enough to take on the army alone right now, but he could definitely defeat Reflair and I.”
“Then let's fight a monster with a monster.” Kaiel gave her a confident smile he didn't entirely feel and stepped into the argument.
Ru was livid, more so than usual. “Can you not see this, Miss Taylin? This is Immurai's game. His plan. He knows how you are from Partha and he's counting on your conscience to lead you to stand and fight. I refuse to play along. I say we continue on and deny him whatever end this serves.”
“It's Bashurra the Crevasse.” Kaiel said, having reached them without either one noticing. He fixed Ru with a look. “Does that name ring a bell with you?”
“Should it?”
“He's a pan-khul, on Immurai's level. The level the records say Immurai is anyhow. That either means they're working together, or Immurai is far, far more powerful than my books say. Which is a very real possibility because besides his cults, there's no mention of him acting directly since the War of Ascension.”
Ru sneered. “I still don't see why I should care.”
“You have a grudge against these demons.” Taylin pointed out. “Why wouldn't you want to fight this one?”
“No, I have a grudge against Immurai.” Ru shot back. “I have no real cares about the Threefold Moon and this demon's done nothing to me. I want Immurai and staying here and fighting an unrelated battle delays the time between me and ripping out his still-beating heart.”
Kaiel raised an eyebrow at him, decided that getting past his contrariness wasn't worth the time and effort, and turned to Taylin. “It actually doesn't matter what he wants. He can stand here and look like a coward for all anyone cares. The issue at hand is that Bashurra is known to be a military genius and he's taking the time to increase his strength instead of ambushing the army before they can set up camp defenses.”
Just as he'd hoped, Taylin understood where that was going, thanks to her own military knowledge. “He doesn't think he can win with just the ambush. The army could beat him if they mobilized.” Her gaze strayed to the homestead. “Except even with those trees dying, that's a pretty good defensive position.”
“We've got to lure him out anyway.” Kaiel explained and gestured for Brin to join them.
Brin nodded in agreement. “I can cut him off from more power. The same seal against nekras I was going to perform anyway should keep him from drawing on more power.”
Taylin nodded and her feathers fluffed up as she thought. “That sounds like a good plan. We remove an advantage he thinks he has, and turn his ambush into one of our own. Only... how do we lure him out?”
Someone cleared their throat and everyone looked to find that Raiteria had joined their circle, clutching her rifle.
“I thought you would see reason.” Ru glared down at her, sounding mildly betrayed. “Your son hangs in the balance of this. Do you think any good is being done for him by plunging into this foolishness?”
Rai refused to meet his gaze, her expression turning to a bittersweet smile. “When I find Motsey, and I bring him home, I'm going to have to tell him and Rale that story of how mommy came and saved him. What do you think he'll think of me if I tell him that I let the people who came and found me, and told me he was gone, die?”
“That his mother has a proper set of priorities, not corrupted by storyspinner drivel.” Ru muttered, but he was now being fully ignored as the others started concocting their plan.
His yellow eyes scanned the plain again and he scowled his disapproval. But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder: what was Immurai's game? Solgrum was dead, his army would be reduced to mercenaries in weeks—it wasn't exactly a toppling of titans even counting the assassination.
No, he wanted the group there, and he was using Taylin's moral code along with Kaiel's bardic philosophy to pin them there. But why?
***
Tolere dabbed at the sweat pouring off his brow in a losing battle. With the enlarged garrison complement, the kitchens were working most hours out of the day now, and that made the upper levels of the keep increasingly unbearable with rising heat.
To make matters worse, Lord Crossius and his family hardly seemed to notice and didn't even bother having the windows opened, or the air-circulating spells activated.
He glanced up at Crossius and saw that the man hadn't even broken a sweat. Coughing to keep a reproachful look from appearing on his face, he tried to continue his report. “Another mercenary company arrived in the early morning today and I'm having trouble accommodating them. The garrison is at capacity, as are the guard bunks of the keep. If any more arrive, we'll be forced to shelter them in town.”
Crossius was drawing a complex spell diagram on a long piece of vellum, something Tolere knew little to nothing about. He was also making something of a production of only listening with half an ear. Only now did he blow out a dispassionate sigh and looked down at the other man from his elevated desk and seat in the Lord's office.
“Then buy out every inn and flophouse and put them there. Make them share bunks based on patrol and training schedules, I don't really care as long as they're in their places when I need them.”
Tolere pursed his lips and forced himself to nod. “There is another thing, my Lord. You see, I've been keeping an eye on things and...” He lowered his voice, “I think some of them might be Kaydans sir. Disciples of the Threefold Moon.”
“And that's a scandal?” Crossius sounded amused. “The church and we of the Isles have allied before; our sciences for their... resources, and vice versa.”
“I know, my Lord but—“
“Again, I don't particularly care. Tell me of my missive to Lord Cald
ebron. Has he replied?”
Tolere suppressed a sigh and nodded. “He sent word that the item you requested is well within his abilities and that for...” He couldn't help to stumbled over the amount. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “For forty gold-weights of gretharian wood or ten pristine test subjects of nominal age and standard health, he can produce what you need within the next week.”
“My love?” The meeting was over the instant Lady Milfine spoke. Tolere was used to that. The Lady spoke and the Lord heard nothing else. She glided into the room, ever graceful, ignoring Tolere as she always did. “That experiment you've been monitoring: there is about to be a change. I thought you would like to watch.”
Crossius rose, casually dusting off his robes. “Indeed. I've been waiting for this a very long time.” Without another thought to Tolere, he stepped down from the desk and went to his Lady, moving to leave the room. “Now to see first hand if my patience has been rewarded.”
Chapter 5 – Novacula Kuponya
Ru hovered just above the grass on the hilltop. His legs were crossed and Kaiel's lap desk rested atop them. The army was arrayed along the riverbank before the now useless bridge to his right, and straight ahead was the wall of living wood that guarded Idarian Homestead; or rather the corpse thereof.
While the sun sank, the wall began to take on an increasingly sinister look, as the thick nekras miasma twisted the dying light.
He only glanced up to track the progress of Kaiel, Raiteria and Brin's woodling cloak nearing the homestead periodically. The majority of the time, his attention was on his pen, which scratched tiny symbols across the page laid out on the lap desk. A neat, but complex spell array lay almost complete there, drawn in part from memory, and in part from his expertise in the craft.
“I still don't understand why you refuse to fight now.” Taylin's voice sounded far away because she was further down the hill, shrouded in a cylinder of swirling black fog: a veil of akua. She'd asked Ru to conjure it to preserve her decency while she donned her armor. He didn't reply, but she only took that as an invitation to continue.
“I can feel it you know: the rush it gives you, this blood-lust of yours. Even now.” She lapsed into a moment of pensive silence, “You promised not to force me into giving your orders anymore.”
Ru placed his gaze firmly on the array he was diagramming. “And I have already made it clear why I choose not to step into this battle, Ms. Taylin. To engage Bashurra is to step onto the gaming board of Immurai's choosing. He takes no action without there being multiple advantages that he can gain, win or lose. It is bad enough that we follow his trail to the child, but this... this is a situation where we can easily afford to simply deny him his chosen scenario.”
“I've already told you why I can't do that.” Her annoyance swirled in the link, but a sudden flash of worry and shame mixed in. “Is it because of your scars?”
“No.” He said brusquely and almost missed a set of calculations along the rim of a control circle.
Taylin stepped through the veil, shattering the hastily constructed illusion and transforming the black fog into a shower of ice crystals that glittered in the setting sun before falling down around her. The cold made her flinch and fold her wings up tight, the feathers ruffling in her discomfort
Her new armor was professionally made by metalworkers who knew what armor was for, and so didn't gleam. The chain hauberk that fell to her thighs was dully metallic, and the leather kilt, which stopped above the knees on the minotaurs it was made for but stopped just below hers, was cured in such a way to leave it rough, as were the padded leather breeches she wore under them. More hardened leather was fitted across her chest and laced to another piece that extended between her wings to cover the opening that had to be worked into the hauberk to allow her to put it on around them.
It was all unadorned and highly functional. The only seeming concessions for looks were the chain gauntlets with plate over the backs of her wrists and plain leather over her fingers, and the sandals on her feet which were all shiny and brand new.
Dóttir Logi was in its mechanized scabbard, the hilt peeking over her shoulder. Not content with just the one weapon, she had two wide-bladed hunting knives sheathed on her hip, and another strapped to her leg.
Now more than ever, Ru was reminded of the old legend of Lady Death he'd quoted back during the King of Flame and Steel's attack. He'd seen Taylin fight several times now, but he'd never seen her fully equipped and readied for battle.
She took no notice of the thoughts in his head and fixed him instead with a look of nagging concern he'd grown to dread. “Will you at least tell me what it was that I accidentally took away?”
“That has nothing to do with why I won't fight now.” Ru looked away from her and down at the army. Scouts on spider and ornis-back were returning from a fruitless search for a ford somewhere upstream. Oddly, they hadn't sent anyone toward the Homestead. In his trained senses, he could tell that someone was moving a great deal of akua, though. Perhaps they were considering forming an ice bridge?
“I believe you.” Taylin baldly lied. “But I would like to know anyway. It's important to me.”
And she used the link to impress upon him just how important. For a brief moment, he was subjected to the stomach knotting tension she'd been feeling since she learned of what she'd done in her attempt to save him from the agony of Matasume the Wind's attack. And with it came the skittering paranoia and guilt that she may have crippled him in some way.
“Oh you are a bright soul, aren't you?” He dredged up another archaic epithet just for the occasion. “Not above manipulation with the link, but actual compulsion is too far?”
She strode past him to stand on the slope leading down to the army. “It isn't manipulation if you know what I'm doing.”
“I wonder if you believe that.”
She was silent and let the link return to its baseline, broadcasting only her tension at having to go down and meet with Percival again, the omnipresent concern over his lost scarifications, and if he concentrated, the thrum of anticipation she was hiding even from herself at the prospect of a fight.
“Heh.” He said to the last one. “Very well, seeing as you may well be in the midst of a suicide in the next few hours, I will tell you the simple version: In the third year after he rescued me, Gand sent myself, Seth, and Gloryfall to visit neighboring lands where magic was accepted; even embraced.
“I traveled to the Chiimiko-Han Mountains, to a people called the Matul Garu. They were an entire people who were sparkers like I was, and they built their society around it. In those mountains, there was precious little ambient energy around; not enough for proper spellwork. Instead, the Matul Garu specialized in casting from their own reserves; quickly and efficiently. They were masters of the quick-cast, to the point that most of their conflicts were resolved in the hiuldar, a battle of non-lethal spells. The first to score a definitive hit on their opponent was the victor.”
Ru watched her partially turn toward him, studying him with one eye, and he wondered if she was seeing his memories again: the stark halls built of ancient and weathered wood, sunken into the stone so that from the outside it was impossible to tell how a person could live inside one without having a permanently hunched back. The chalked out hiuldar floors that took up a room in every generational home. His first few weeks living among the Matul Garu, in which he got intimately acquainted with those floors from meeting them at high speed...
He coughed and continued, “There was an occupation among them: a representative of sorts, who could be paid to stand in one's place at hiuldar. Among the masters of the quick-cast, these were the most mighty. They were called traccas, or Scarred Ones.
“That is what the scars were for, Miss Taylin. They are scored into the flesh through a coating of plaster and herbs and the pain is immense, but once it’s done, you can use that pain and the memory of the patterns the scars make to instantly recall and string together fragments of spell arrays with no i
ncantation or pattern drawing required. Back in Daire, I snapped a Chaos Lance at Immurai with barely a second thought; a spell so complex that it is typically used only for demonstration purposes, because it takes upwards of a minute to chant in combat.”
Taylin turned back to face the army fully again. “So you can't change shape instantly anymore.”
“Heh.” the laugh came out dangerous and cold. “Miss Taylin, I would not have been cooperative or forgiving if that was taken from me. I am a shapeshifting master. I've earned that. And violent death awaits anyone that would seek to relieve me of it.”
As soon as he said it, his eyebrow shot up at what he felt in the link. Her guilt had been slowly evaporating and now it was fully replaced by pride. Pride in what she saw as standing up to her. It was all he could do not to curse. To him, it felt as if he were a small dog getting petted for not wetting the floor.
“I'll be going then.” She said and that same pride stained her words.
“And I will remain here.” He said through clenched teeth. But as she spread her wings in preparation to fly, he recalled something. “Wait a moment.” He cut her off. With a few sweeps of his fingers, he drew out a pattern of void in the air and reached into the folded space he used for storage in lieu of filling Gaddigan's saddlebags. It was crude compared to Kaiel's portable library, or the House, but it served his purposes: storing his books, scythe and his favored red silk shirt, as well as one other object.
Taylin stopped and watched him drag forth from the folded space a familiar weapon, still in the same poorly made leather scabbard as it had been in the night Layaka betrayed them and Motsey was taken.
“It is no longer merely a handy bit of sharpened steel.” He said, offering it to her hilt first. “It is now Novacula Kuponya. One translation would make it: Razorblade of Remedy. Take it. It may be of use.”
The Path of Destruction (Rune Breaker) Page 6