by Joe Jackson
She met the eyes of the cadet she had corrected again. “What’s your name, young man?”
“Albert, ma’am,” he answered. “Simon Albert.”
“Don’t let my corrections get you down, Simon. You’ve made it this far. Keep working at your craft.”
He snapped her another salute. “I appreciate it, ma’am.”
“Headmaster,” she said as she turned toward the prison, and Campbell saluted her again.
Kari reached the prison shortly afterwards and absently returned the salutes of the guards at the entrance. She strode purposefully down its hall, only pausing to look at the empty cell that had, until recently, held her traitorous assistant. She wondered what he was doing at that moment, in the city of Anthraxis and the land of their enemies for the first time. Without knowing how to speak infernal, beshathan, or any of their other native tongues, she expected Joaquim felt quite isolated right about now.
If he’s smart, that’s how he’ll stay, she thought, imagining the fool divulging every secret he knew to their enemies.
She continued to the four cells that contained her beshathan prisoners. Each of them rose and approached the bars of their cells but for the erestram, who had enough trouble just standing up in what were, to him, cramped quarters. But that was who Kari went to see first.
“Is it true?” she asked him in beshathan.
His ears perked up at being addressed so fluently in his native tongue, and he rose to a half-kneeling position before Kari. That still put them virtually eye to eye. “I have pledged my life to the magister who subdued me with arcane power, yes,” he said.
“Why?” she pressed him.
“It is a rare enough thing for arcane power to be brought to bear against my kind with any effect. To be subdued and spared by someone whose life I sought to take… I now owe my life to her. I will serve her all of my days, or hers, or until the magister sees fit to release me from her service. This is the way of my people.”
“Is that true?” Kari asked, taking a step back to meet the gaze of the elestram prisoner in the next cell over.
“It is, Lady Vanador,” the elestram, called Kichok, returned. “That you have one among your people capable of subduing an erestram with arcane power is shocking enough. That she would then spare him? Among the erestram, that invokes a life debt.”
“Lady Vanador?” the erestram repeated. “Are you the same who defeated Etolivor Makra in single combat?”
“I am.”
“Then you know my words to be true. I owe your magister my life just as Etolivor owes you his.”
Kari nodded. “Very well, I’ll release you to Karinda’s service. She can decide what to do with you. As for the rest of you, there’s something I need to know: How long will it be now before Arku leaves for the Council session?”
The two mallasti deferred to the elestram to do the calculation and answer. “Any day now,” he said. “King Arku does not typically go to Anthraxis early, preferring to spend little time among his peers. With the travel time taken into account, he must leave within the next couple of days to arrive within the prescribed time. What are you planning?”
Kari shrugged. “Now that my body’s cooperating again, I think it’s time I went and put my own help in rescuing my brother-in-law from your king.”
“Did I not tell you it was a trap?” Kichok balked.
“Yes, and we accounted for that with the information you gave us. I’m going to be late to the efforts, but with your king required to go to Anthraxis, it leaves only Curlamanx to guard my brother-in-law. And we’ve handled him before.”
The elestram male grabbed the bars of his cell and beheld Kari solemnly. “You and your companions are exceptionally brave, I will grant you that. You are not going to harm my wife while you are there, are you?”
“Of course not,” Kari said. “It was always an empty threat. That’s not how I do things.”
Kichok started to scowl, but the look softened quickly, settling into wonder. “I am not certain what to make of you.”
The demonhunter stepped toward him and leaned in. “The only thing you need to know is that I’m not your enemy until you make me your enemy. And your attack on this city and the killing of my friend? You’ve made quite an enemy of me. But things change. Keep making yourself useful and of little trouble, and I may just let you go home to that wife of yours.”
Kichok bowed his head and returned to his bed to sit. Kari turned to the mallasti across the hall, both still staring at her. “This would be easier to understand if you treated us poorly,” one said. Unlike Kichok, the hyena-folk still had not divulged their names, likely wary of their own wives or families being targeted.
“I know,” Kari said with a smirk. She bid the four a casual farewell and left the prison.
Kari checked the position of the sun and made her way toward the docks. Midmorning was fast approaching, and she had an appointment to keep. She spotted Red Eagle before she left the campus grounds, however, and called him over.
“Find Karinda Bakhor and tell her she’s welcome to take her erestram bondservant from the prison at any time,” she instructed, and his brows arched to the limits. “I’ll explain later, but if she wants him released to her service, take care of that for me.”
“Of course, ma’am,” he said with a salute. “Would you like repairs to begin on the office building? The laborers are ready at your command.”
Kari glanced over at the administrative building and sighed. She had to let him go, she knew. “Yes, tell them to proceed whenever they’re ready. But ask them to set up a shrine to our fallen brother when they’re finishing up.”
“I will. He was a great man, a great leader. You do his memory proud, Lady Vanador. He was honored to relinquish his command to you, you know that.”
“I do,” she said, fighting back some tears and blowing forth a comforting sigh. “Thank you, Darius. Get to it, if you would. I’ll be back on campus in a little while, and I have some things to go over with you regarding my coming absence.”
“Absence?” he echoed.
She gestured him away with a nod. “I’ll explain later.”
*****
Kari arrived at the docks after a short jaunt from the campus. Waiting for her there, near a two-masted ship, were Masters Goldberg and van Holtzer, along with a trio of her best human hunters. This was the entourage that would go make contact with the seterra-rir, to tell them that the truth had been unearthed and the Order was determined to both make reparations and protect the scattered folk. It was only the first step on what would undoubtedly be a long road, but Kari was confident the human priests were well-suited to the task.
“I wish I could go with you all,” Kari commented as she drew up to the group and shook hands with each of the men.
“There is more than enough to keep you busy here,” Master van Holtzer said. “And this is a task that Malcolm, in particular, is eagerly anticipating.”
Kari glanced at Master Goldberg, whose broad smile said more than his mouth ever could. He was the record-keeper and historian among the Order, and handing him Turik Jalar’s old journals had been like celebrating a dozen birthdays all at once. Within an hour, he had read them all. Within a day, he had added them to the archives. And within a couple of days, he had cross-referenced them with every other hint and detail the Order possessed about the so-called War of Purity.
“This is something long overdue,” he said, sobering up a bit. “Make no mistake, Lady Vanador: We will carry out this sacred duty to the fullest extent possible.”
“Just make sure they know I sent you, and that they’re going to be under the protection of Zalkar and the Order. That’s going to require a lot of explaining and convincing, but at least you have Turik Jalar’s records to show them that it was never ordained from above. I don’t know what this was all about; it’s really beyond me to even figure out. But I keep hearing things and experiencing things that suggest coincidence is rarely the answer. Considering my resurrecti
on, and all the events since, I feel like we were meant to find these records and reestablish ties with these people now instead of then, for some reason.”
“If we only had access to Gori Sensullu to find the true answers,” Master Goldberg said. “Perhaps if the Temple of Archons is ever opened, the answers will be there.”
“That is what this all seems to lead to, isn’t it?” Kari offered. “I mean, I told you a lot of what’s been going on the last few years, but there was one major thing I forgot to mention.”
“Oh, and me without my quill and ink,” Master Goldberg said with a chuckle.
“When I went to hunt Annabelle, we took a detour to the village of the kwarrasti in the southern badlands. While we were there, Aeligos and I met with a kwarrasti seer named, oddly enough, Kimlerin Chinchala,” Kari explained, and now even the three hunters standing casually by perked up with interest. “That’s a long story in itself, but one of the things she showed me was a memory… of the celestial realm.”
More than just the hunters stopped what they were doing at those words. Kari had the attention of every sailor, dockhand, courier, guard, and other laborer in the area. It may not have been wise to continue speaking in front of such a group, but Kari shrugged it off in her mind. These were her people, her countrymen, and they deserved to know that all of the hurt, damage, and despair that was being laid at their feet by Seril, the demon kings, and whoever else was all for a reason.
“I wasn’t brought back against my will. I was given a choice. Gori Sensullu asked me if I would return and carry a piece of his spirit with me, and I accepted. I wasn’t born Salvation’s Dawn; it’s more of a duty that I accepted before I was returned. And I was returned to open that Temple for some reason – and I suspect it’s got something to do with finding the truth behind everything Gori Sensullu did.”
“He could not have made a better choice,” Master van Holtzer said.
“You can say that again,” one of the dockhands put in, echoed by a few less-formal but heartfelt epithets.
“Oh, there’s two other things you can do for me while you’re there, Masters. First, if Karmi’s Sword is there for whatever reason – or even if it’s not – would you pass along word that I need to speak with Jori-an Stormrider? As for the other, if you could ask after Dowain and Saisha while you’re there, I’m curious how their child is doing. Maybe you can let them know I have three of my own now.”
She was met by silence and a bunch of raised eyebrows. “Three?”
“Long story,” Kari said, waving off their curiosity.
“I get the feeling she’s told us only half of what she knows,” Master Goldberg joked.
“We’ll set aside time for me to give you all the details when you get back,” she told him. “I’ve only told you half because you’re never going to believe the other half.”
The two humans laughed, and Kari exchanged hugs with them and handshakes again with her hunters. “Gods go with you. I can’t stress how important this is to the Order, or possibly the world as a whole.”
“You can depend on us,” Master van Holtzer said, and he and his fellow priest made their way up the gangway with their hunter escorts.
Before she left, Kari glanced over all the other folk here on the docks, many of whom still stared at her. She graced them with a demonhunter salute, and was only slightly surprised when she received many a military salute in return. Those that didn’t return her salute in some form instead nodded their heads or simply smiled, and that was more than enough. Whatever the ex-duke had said in regard to blaming Kari for the city’s woes, its people didn’t feel the same way, and that lent Kari confidence.
She turned and started back toward the campus, where she needed to prepare Red Eagle to take the reins while she went to Mehr’Durillia. She would also have to send word to Eliza or ask Karinda about transportation to their sister world. Her body felt healed, and though fatigue still settled in when she over-exerted herself, she felt ready to lend her aid to her family and their friends in rescuing Erik. She would be behind them, she knew, but her presence would no doubt draw a lot of attention and cause the kings a good deal of stress with their meeting coming up.
As she walked, there was a tingle in her mind as she heard the laughter of the mallestrem child again. There was no physical manifestation, but she could feel his furry little hand in hers as surely as though he walked beside her. She was sure no one looking at her would notice, but her fingers curled around his ever so slightly, and she had to work to keep tears from her eyes. In her mind, she could see his intense little amber pools, full of the playfulness of the mallasti, but also the deep intellect of the elestram.
“Are you going back home, Mama?” he asked her in flowing beshathan. He was still only Little Gray’s size in her mind’s eye, but spoke with a wisdom that was beyond his years.
“Yes,” she whispered, mindful of speaking aloud to someone nobody else could see.
“Are you going to see Papa?”
A shiver coursed down Kari’s spine, right to the end of her tail. “I wish I was, but no,” she whispered.
“Are you going to ask the demon lady to take you?”
“Eliza? Yes, either her or one of my other friends.”
“Why not just go yourself? You’ve done it before, Mama.”
“But that was as a mallasti.”
Kari looked around and realized she’d said the last part aloud. She got some strange looks, but overall, the people still smiled or nodded to the Avatar of Vengeance. The child in her mind went silent, but his words resonated in Kari’s soul.
She thought of Mehr’Durillia: The rolling hills of Pataria, the golden fields of Tess’Vorg, and the fragrant forests of Sorelizar. She could see the cities, smell the people, hear the chatter and hum and throb of life. She felt herself pulled, and the image of the city of black glass filled her mind instead. Anthraxis was pulling at her, just as Seanada had warned when they spoke of crossing between worlds. Using every ounce of willpower, Kari came back to herself, standing under the sunshine on the streets of DarkWind.
“Ketava,” she whispered, and she heard the distant laughter of a beshathan child.
*****
The half-trousers weren’t stylish, but they were comfortable enough. It certainly beat the prospect of running through the countryside of Si’Dorra naked, no matter what Tarra’s attention might have suggested. Erik had waited patiently while he healed up, and it hadn’t been long before Tarra deemed it was time to go. He was glad to be leaving the confines of the cave, but at the same time, he had enjoyed the quiet time with her.
Despite their kisses and the closeness they shared while sleeping, Erik was pleased that their relationship, if he could call it that, was proceeding slowly. Rather than indulge in lust or even in long tales of their background, Tarra had begun teaching Erik to speak infernal. It was slow going and frustrating in the extreme, but she was more patient as a teacher than he was as a student. In just a couple of days, he had at least learned a number of common phrases and the “polite” nuances of introductions.
The sky was overcast and threatening when they left the cave at last. Erik found he still felt naked despite the coverings she had fashioned for him; he was without armor or weapons, and they were deep in enemy territory. Tarra was fully clothed, but she wore no armor and carried no weapons either, which struck him as strange for an assassin. Perhaps it was just her disguise, to appear more as a commoner and be more effective when she did strike. After all, for all he knew, she could be a master of the arcane.
The cave turned out to be nothing of the sort. It was a storeroom camouflaged by stacks of hay and other feed. The harmauths’ land was primarily patchwork farm, with open fields for some odd horse-bovine hybrids, for all Erik could classify them. The ram-folk themselves were toiling under the gray skies, tending to the crops that grew safely away from the hungry mouths of their beasts of burden.
There was something amusing underneath that, the massive ram-folk
raising beasts of burden when they seemed to be such themselves. He kept any such mirth to himself, though. The mighty rams dwarfed Erik’s six-foot-ten frame, and they were thick with muscle that said they labored much of their lives. He found them somewhat intimidating, but as several of them straightened out at the emergence of their “guests,” Erik thought he saw docility in their gazes.
“They don’t seem very put out by our presence,” he said.
“For all their strength, the harmauths are a quiet, peaceful people when left to their own devices,” Tarra agreed. “They are frequently pressed into the kings’ armies for their power and the ability to keep our peoples in line, but they prefer to work the land, tend to their animals, and be left alone.”
“Should we go say thanks to their leader for letting us stay?”
Tarra shook her head. “You will not be allowed in the presence of the matriarch; you are an outsider and represent a threat, however minimal, to the clan mother. I have already thanked these people on your behalf, and so the best way we can express our gratitude now is to leave their lands before the king sends people here looking for us.”
“So, we’re on our own now,” Erik said, blowing out a sigh.
“To an extent, yes,” she said. She bowed deliberately to the ram-folk watching them, and Erik followed suit. The harmauths bowed those great, horned heads, but then went back to their work. “Remember, however, that the Ashen Fangs are a widespread network that we may call upon at certain points. And there is another thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There have been… disruptions in and around Agivak. I believe it may be your friends and companions, though if that is the case, they are either ignorant of your escape, or they are working to aid us in another manner.”