The Way of Pain

by Gregory Mattix

  The two younger prisoners’ eyes were locked on the dagger in Creel’s hand. They could have been Jerard and Dorian, perhaps younger, and had possibly done nothing worse than followed orders this feared warlord had given them. Can I order their deaths just for that?

  Her exhaustion nearly overwhelmed her: the stress of the past days, both physical and emotional, along with the pressure of leadership crushing down on her. Now tears were threatening to come at the hopelessness of it all. She turned away from the prisoners so that they wouldn’t see her weakness.

  A moment later, she felt Creel’s hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her away. “I think we’ve gotten what we need, Your Majesty. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Master Creel.”

  Sianna tried to ignore the wet gurgles of dying men behind her as she returned to the fire and huddled next to Iris, closing her eyes and trying to let the fire warm the sudden chill in her soul.

  Chapter 22

  Taren sat beside the campfire that evening, his book, Lore of the Elder Ones, cradled on his lap. He was having difficulty concentrating on reading with a full belly while soaking up the warmth of the large fire they’d kept stoked since having unexpectedly found the queen of Ketania and her companions under attack in the woods. And the young queen was another reason he was unable to concentrate. Simply being around royalty made him nervous. He was surprised her presence didn’t seem to affect the others: Mira was her normal placid self, Ferret was as unreadable as usual, and Creel he doubted would be nervous even if facing down a dragon. However, the monster hunter did seem a good deal more affable and was attentive to the young queen.

  He knew he should probably turn in, with Ferret keeping her usual watch. Everyone else was asleep already. Rafe’s snores might have given a bear pause about entering the campsite. Yet Taren doubted that after the day’s excitement he would be able to relax enough to find sleep.

  He took a long drink from his water skin and recalled the doe he’d brought down a couple hours earlier. The shot had been a good one with the short bow, roughly forty paces or so. Even Creel was impressed when Taren, Mira, and Ferret had returned successfully from their hunt, the latter easily bearing the carcass slung across her shoulders.

  And Creel thought we would come back empty-handed.

  A long discussion had ensued over who would go, for Sianna’s crew had no supplies at all, and the rest of them were already low on food. Creel was the most accomplished hunter, but he’d been reluctant to leave Sianna undefended. Taren had volunteered to hunt, and Mira wouldn’t let him go alone. Ferret had simply sneaked off, for she’d suddenly appeared on their trail about five minutes after leaving camp, claiming she wanted to help. Of the three, Taren was the only one with any hunting experience, and with his second sight, he spotted the doe easily. Under ordinary circumstances, he might have felt he was cheating, but nothing was ordinary about having a starving queen and her lady in his camp. He sent Mira and Ferret around to flush the deer in his direction, then he made the shot before it could veer away from him. The ability to provide dinner, especially for his queen, filled him with pride.

  It’s a good thing I have that dead scout’s bow. If I hadn’t, Sianna and her maid would likely be wounded or even dead, run through by those assassins—perhaps even captured, to face some appalling fate.

  He looked over at the two sleeping women, bundled up in their cloaks by the fire. Iris was pretty enough, but Sianna he found breathtaking, even dirty and exhausted as she was from her ordeal. Something of Yethri showed in her features, he supposed, with her auburn hair and green eyes, but there the resemblance ended. Sianna carried herself with easy confidence, a noble mien, if he had to describe it. But he also sensed her keen intelligence and admired her fierce strength and determination from the moment he’d first seen her holding her foes at bay with bloodied sword in hand.

  Taren belatedly realized Sianna’s eyes were shining in the firelight, and he hurriedly looked away, flushing in embarrassment for staring at her. Fool, she’s a queen, not some mere country girl to make eyes at.

  He turned back to his book, trying for the fourth time to get through a difficult passage about the culture of the Elder Ones. The tome was a frustrating read in that it was split into dual languages: both Common and the tongue of the Elder Ones, without any translation provided. Nor did the Common text directly reference the native language, the sections of which could have been pieces of literature, songs, magical formulae, or even historical records, as far as he could tell. He assumed the author couldn’t understand the original tongue either.

  Stifling a yawn, he again considered giving up on the tome and climbing into his bedroll. With his second sight, he saw Creel and Ferret beyond the firelight, keeping watch together as they often did. Taren was glad the girl was more herself of late. He’d been afraid she was slipping away after the devastating revelation of her new form, but fortunately, her mood had been improving over the past days, which he was glad to see. Her bond with Creel seemed to play a large role in that.

  “What are you reading?” Sianna sat up and warmed her hands over the fire, glancing over at Taren, her green eyes shimmering in the light.

  He felt his flush returning at the likelihood she’d caught him staring earlier. “Oh, um, it’s a book about the Elder Ones I’ve been trying to get through, Your Majesty.” He held up the book so that she could see the cover. “This current section is a bit dry, discussing their societal structure and the like, a lot of which I don’t understand.”

  “Ov, whed nayerdedailr dainar, whal err raanr nurd naisa, llailn na e yeraield shenfaiul, du saina ail eln reya dha neirr.” The words rolled off Sianna’s tongue like some forgotten melody, making Taren feel a tug of sorrow on his heart from the words.

  “Was that the Elder Ones’ tongue?” he asked, eyes wide.

  Sianna smiled and nodded. Gone was the stern queen of earlier who had ordered the deaths of those three men. Instead, she was simply a young woman who had been through much tragedy—a fellow survivor, and one who carried a very heavy burden. “It’s a verse from a poem I fancy. Quite similar to Elvish, actually, with some variations.”

  “That’s marvelous! I’ve yet to meet anyone who could speak or read the tongue—until now, that is.”

  Her cheeks colored at his praise. “Sorry to disappoint. I can’t truly read or speak it. I learned that one poem by memorization alone. ‘Ode to the Dawning Light.’ It’s quite famous, actually, in Elvish at least, but Master Aered insisted I learn the original verse as taken from the Elder Ones. Forgive me—I’m blathering.”

  “Oh, not at all, Your Majesty. What does it translate to in Common?”

  “Please, Taren, just Sianna is fine when we’re out here away from the court.” She grimaced. “Sometimes, I wish I would never have to go back to all that nonsense, but someone has to hold the kingdom together, I suppose. As to the poem, I’ll try my best.” She flashed him a quick grin, then her face took on a look of concentration. The tip of her tongue poked slightly from the corner of her mouth, likely a quirk she didn’t even know about when focusing intently. “Lo, in such dark days, when all seems most dire, I cry to the gods: deliver me a valiant champion to bring back the light.” She looked mildly embarrassed.

  Taren smiled and nodded. “I like it. It captures the mood perfectly. There’s a great sense of underlying sorrow and tragedy about the Elder Ones, of so much that once was but is now lost and long forgotten over the millennia. If this was set to music by a talented bard, I bet the entire poem would be very moving.”

  Sianna nodded, and he could see the sorrow in her eyes, perhaps from thinking of the poem or, more likely, reflecting on all she had lost.

  “You’re quite well cultured for a commoner,” she remarked. Then, as if realizing her words could be taken poorly, she added, “I mean no insult. It’s a pleasant surprise.” She flushed in embarrassment.

  “Oh, not at all, Sianna. I’ve always had a strong thirs
t for knowledge. Take after my father that way, I suppose.” From what his Uncle Arron had once mentioned, Malek had been a curious, studious sort, unlike his mother.

  They sat in silence a long time, the fire popping occasionally, and Taren couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once they reached Llantry. The consensus earlier had been to try to reach the capital and acquire mounts, then Creel would guide Sianna, Iris, and Rafe to Carran, most likely to try to salvage what was left of the war effort and the kingdom in general. Meanwhile, Taren, Mira, and Ferret would continue on to Nexus. He realized that although he had his own path to take, he enjoyed the company of the others.

  Who would ever believe me back in Swanford if I told them the Queen of Ketania and I had shared a fire together? And that I brought down the deer to feed her.

  He was disheartened to think Swanford might not even exist any longer and he didn’t have any friends or relatives remaining there anyway.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked finally, to break the silence.

  Sianna picked up her sheathed short sword and ran her thumb along the filigreed hilt, clearly a fine weapon by the look of it. “Sir Colm Bithell, our captain of the guard, trained me. Father never approved, but that didn’t stop me from pestering Sir Colm until he agreed to instruct me. It paid off, being able to protect myself and my friends.”

  “Indeed. I was always hopeless trying to learn the sword. A bit better with a bow, at least.”

  “A bit better? Come now, don’t be so modest. Those were some impressive shots when you saved me from being stabbed and poor Iris from getting her head bashed in. Plus, you brought home dinner.” Her smile was genuine, which filled him with pleasant warmth at her praise. “You seem to have some other talents as well, judging from how you lit the fire earlier.” She regarded him curiously.

  “I do have a bit of magical talent. But I’m still a novice, learning to control it. There was an unfortunate… incident along the road. My cousin and I came to Ryedale only to find the Inquisition in the city. Worse, they’d taken someone I cared about and killed her before my eyes. I tried to help her, but not only was I too late, but I lacked enough control. Innocents got hurt and killed in the process. That’s part of the reason why I must go to Nexus, to find my mother. Hopefully, she can aid me.” He didn’t know why he was telling her all that, but she was personable and easy to talk to.

  Sianna nodded slowly. “Were it not for this invasion, none of us would be forced into these tough situations. My kingdom would be whole, Father, Mother, and my two brothers would all be alive. Your friend wouldn’t have been killed, nor would you have been forced to take action.”

  “True, yet we must accept the choices we make and live with them.”

  She was silent a long time. “I wish you luck on your journey. When you get back, come find me. I can use a good mage standing with me to help take back the kingdom.”

  “I shall, if the gods will it. But Ketania hasn’t fallen yet.”

  “It won’t be long now, I fear.” She stared into the flames for a time then asked softly, “What is the other reason?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You mentioned ‘part of the reason’ you must seek out Nexus.”

  “Oh, yes. I made Ferret a promise I’d do all I can to aid her.”

  “I was curious about her but thought it impolite to ask. She is not well, then?”

  “In a sense, I suppose.” He briefly told her what had happened in the Hall of the Artificers.

  “Gods… Poor girl. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Yet another unfortunate loss to add to the tally. That’s noble of you to try to aid her.”

  “She’s a good friend and would do the same for me,” he said, realizing that was true as he said it.

  “Would that the kingdom was filled with such men and women of character, for such strength will be needed in the dark days to come.” Sianna looked tired, perhaps a knife’s edge away from giving up, and he was reminded again of her youthfulness.

  Creel stepped out of the woods just then, looking at the two of them curiously. “Is all well?” he asked.

  Sianna nodded. “For now, yes. I feel safe for the first time in days. ’Tis a pity fate won’t allow us to remain like this, a peaceful sanctuary beside the fire, insulated from the violence and bloodshed of war many miles away.”

  She glanced at Taren as she said it, a wistful smile on her lips that made his heart race faster. He found himself nodding agreement.

  Creel must have noticed Sianna’s look too, for a corner of his mouth twitched momentarily. “You should get some rest, both of you. Tomorrow promises to be a long day. If we make it to Llantry on the morrow, we’ll have proper beds to sleep in and a roof over our heads.”

  “You are right. Goodnight, gentlemen.” Sianna lay back down beside Iris and tightly pulled the blanket Creel had donated around herself.

  Taren returned his book to his pack and crawled into his bedroll but doubted sleep would find him. Surprisingly, it did, although his dreams were haunted by images of a captivating maiden with hair like fire and sparkling green eyes, reciting a melancholy poem in a language long dead.

  Chapter 23

  When her preparations were complete, Nesnys sent out a summons reverberating throughout the realm of Achronia in the Abyss. She had need of scouts, searchers to track and find a wayward young queen whom her pitiful human soldiers had failed to recover in the company of a single guard and her handmaiden. Summoning the erinys was a risky move, for they despised Nesnys, and she trusted them not in the least, but she was in a foul mood following the report of her soldiers discovered butchered in the woods, particularly in their absolute failure in the simple matter of locating a young girl and her escorts. But enlisting the furies’ aid was a risk worth taking, for the fiends were capable hunters possessed of astounding vision. Finding the woman in the woods should prove no challenge at all for them. Nesnys would also take great pleasure in subjugating them to her will. She could have used Scaixal but had other tasks for him to perform, namely locating Neratiri’s whelp, who had proven surprisingly elusive since having entered the Hall of the Artificers and then disappearing. The matter of the young would-be Queen Atreus was an unexpected nuisance she wanted to do away with quickly so that she might devote her full attention to more important matters.

  Within a short time, the void of the summoning portal distorted, and a winged shape soared free with an avian screech of exhilaration at being summoned to a Prime plane. The erinys impacted the invisible cylinder of Nesnys’s summoning circle and rebounded with a crackle of magical power. The demoness snarled in anger and frustration at being thwarted so. Within moments, three more of her sisters joined her, bumping and colliding in the tight space, their pitch-colored wings jostling each other. Recognizing the futility of their struggle, they landed on their golden-scaled avian feet and glared at Nesnys with clear loathing.

  She studied each of them, similar in appearance with hair colors ranging from brown to black, braided tightly or shorn close to their scalps. Each had pale, branded skin and striking eyes. She cursed in annoyance, for the one she sought, her old foe, was not among them.

  “Where is your crippled sister, the bitch Sirath?” Nesnys stood with hands on hips, scowling at the fiends.

  “Why have you summoned us?” one of them snapped. “Sirath is no longer alpha, nor does she roost among us. Perhaps she will not answer your summons.”

  When Nesnys opened her mouth to reply, the portal shimmered and snapped shut, but not before one final erinys appeared, this one hopping through at the last instant. The creature moved a couple steps forward in the awkward, bounding gait of their kind when grounded. A cruel smile of triumph spread on Nesnys’s lips at recognizing the newly arrived fury.

  Her nemesis, Sirath, stood at the rear of the fluttering erinys, coolly regarding Nesnys and displaying none of the others’ disquietude. “What do you want of us?” Sirath asked in her throaty voice.

 
; The others ceased their irritating jostling and susurrus, actions much like the mangy flock of crows they resembled, for even though Sirath was now an outcast, they obviously still respected her power.

  Nesnys sneered at her onetime rival. “So even the most worthless erinys answers my call. I’ve summoned you harpies to search for a human queen, copper of hair and fair of skin, less than a score of summers in age. She is hiding in the vast forest to the northeast, and my human soldiers proved woefully inept in capturing her. Seek this human whelp out and deliver her to me. Slay any that may be accompanying her. If you should seek to test me, know that I have Lord Shaol’s favor in this endeavor and I shall punish you harshly. Yet succeed in my bidding, and you may yet find yourselves rewarded with more freedom to slake your bloodlust and sow chaos, much as my lieutenants have already proven themselves worthy.” To demonstrate her power, she collapsed the cylindrical warding into a net of crackling energy that fell upon the erinys, forcing them down prostrate onto the ground and singeing flesh and feathers alike. They all shrieked and cursed and thrashed around.

  All save one—Sirath knelt solemnly on hands and knees, stoically bearing the pain in silence even as the magic scorched her flesh, much to Nesnys’s annoyance. She strove to crush them with her power, to teach the treacherous creatures a lesson not to even think to cross her. They wailed and gnashed their teeth, all save Sirath. She maintained some amount of quiet dignity on her knees, the net of energy smoldering and singeing the wing bound tightly to her back, but all the while, her gold-flecked eyes met Nesnys’s in a silent challenge.

  Nesnys seethed inwardly at the demon’s quiet defiance but knew trying to punish her further was useless. Such attempts would make her look weak in front of the other erinys. Instead, she would deal with Sirath privately at a later time. For now, she did not have time to waste dithering with the furies.