Blade Kin

by David Farland

  Tull concentrated on the smell of wild garlic, on a badger den where he had once lost a coin playing in the dirt, and cried out in his heart, “Please.”

  The lights that held him twisted, slamming him down toward the red sandstone, punishing him for his feeble attempts at escape.

  Tull’s head bounced off stones; still Atherkula held him. Tull imagined touching a flower, and still Atherkula clung tight.

  Atherkula whispered, “I hold you by the fires of your soul. Sprout more fires if you like. I will take them, too.”

  Tull tried to do as he said, tried to sprout more tentacles. He thought perhaps he could escape somewhere, fight off Atherkula, but the tiny fires did not respond to his attempts. Instead, he floated slowly on the wind over the countryside, toward the glimmering living souls that burned like gems—an army of Blade Kin.

  ***

  Chapter 29: Ill Met by Moonlight

  Fava and Darrissea slept on the wall until Thor went down, then walked toward the Blade Kin camp in the dark.

  A half mile along the wall, they found a fallen redwood, a grand old tree nearly twenty-five feet in diameter. They leapt down from the wall to the tree, then climbed to the ground, cut over to the road beyond the Blade Kin camps, and marched north through the night in a light rain.

  Dawn found them high in the coastal mountains on an old road beaten to mud by the feet of Blade Kin. The morning sun on the muddy road turned it silver, as if it were a river running through the trees.

  They followed that road for eight days and four times avoided caravans—Thralls carrying supplies to the Blade Kin.

  They reached the Mammoth Run plateau one morning, and stood on a hill gazing down at the brown plains free of snow.

  They were starved, worn from living on the run, in the open. They climbed down the hills, disturbing a tyrant bird that had killed a giant elk. They almost stepped on it by accident, deep in a bed of brambles.

  The small dragon was only four feet tall at the shoulder, with dirty-brown feathers and a small horn. It glared at them from ruby eyes and gnashed its teeth, then beat its wings and thundered overhead, landed in a tree and watched. They had not eaten warm food for two days, and Fava cut a back strap from the elk.

  They set camp in a small thicket at the edge of the forest. Darrissea lit a single candle to cook the meat in a tin cup. Fava slept.

  A shout woke her from a deep slumber.

  Fava raised her head in the darkness to see a pair of huge furry ankles, nearly a foot across. Her heart withered, realizing that it must be a Mastodon Man, and she was about to die.

  “Don’t cry out!” Darrissea whispered, and Fava rolled to her back, looked up at the giant hairy form in the darkness.

  The beast smelled of open fields and meadows, dry grass, a fragrance incongruent with the redwood forest. It stood a good nine feet in height, would have measured five feet across the shoulders, and the beast’s white hair glowed a soft tangerine in the light of rising Thor.

  Moving silently, it bent over Darrissea and touched her breasts, then bent close in the moonlight and the warm breath from its nostrils fanned Fava as it snuffled, tasting her scent.

  Its breath smelled of hay and leaves, and Fava looked up into intelligent eyes.

  A Hukm, she realized. Over its right shoulder it wore a leather belt filled with pouches. The Hukm raised its head and sounded a long, plaintive howl—then took Fava’s face in one hand, and held her to the ground.

  Suddenly, Fava became aware of movement all around her, and in the shadows she could see hundreds of the creatures, their massive white bodies whispering through the forest. Dozens of the Hukm surrounded them in the darkness while others passed north, and Fava did not dare move.

  They circled, raising their huge war clubs, and some growled softly. In the distance Fava heard mammoths trumpeting.

  The minutes stretched endlessly, and three more times the Hukm stopped to howl in unison, until a huge mammoth thundered near, stopping overhead so that its shadow blotted out all light.

  Something heavy leapt from the mammoth, landed nearby.

  “Move, and you both die,” a soft, cracking voice said.

  Both Fava and Darrissea cried out together: “Phylomon!”

  ***

  Chapter 30: One with the Wolf

  Tull woke in Chulata’s bedroom to the sound of voices. The ship’s engines growled steadily, and Tull could tell by the smooth motion of the ship that they were far from the docks.

  A plate of food lay nearby, a breakfast of curry sausages and lightly baked squash with raisins and cinnamon. Tull ate greedily, though the fare was richer than what he was used to.

  He suspected Chulata would demand that he strip, ask him to perform the acts he’d refused. Perhaps her guards would whip him.

  After Tull waited in the room for hours, Mahkawn entered. The aging Blade Kin looked haggard. His braided hair had not been kept up, and stray threads escaped it. His black robes looked as if he’d slept in them. “I hope you are rested.”

  “Yes, I am rested,” Tull said.

  “We stopped this ship to search for you,” Mahkawn said. “Our ship is full of a cargo of slaves, yet for days my men sought you when we should have been headed back to Bashevgo. Do you know why we spent so much effort?”

  “No,” Tull said, feeling unaccountably guilty, as if he had disappointed a friend.

  “Why did you tie up Chulata,” Mahkawn asked, “instead of killing her outright?”

  Tull hesitated. “I wouldn’t kill a slave unless it outlived its use. To do so would be a waste. Chulata … I do not wish her any harm.”

  Mahkawn’s single eye glittered like a hawk’s. “Do you love her?”

  The idea seemed ludicrous. Tull laughed. “No.”

  “Then, you will not be saddened to learn that she died. She vomited into her gag and strangled.”

  “I am saddened,” Tull said truthfully. “I had not meant to waste her. I’d hoped to keep her alive.”

  Mahkawn weighed Tull’s words. “Well said. You speak like a Blade Kin, and I’d like your ear, but now that cannot happen. Atherkula seeks your death, and I suspect Lord Tantos will give you the full penalty. You are not a Pwi any longer. Even though you killed Chulata by accident, you killed her while making an attempt at escape. So you will be sentenced to death.”

  Tull was so stunned, he could not say anything.

  “Did you ever consider what you want out of life?” Mahkawn asked.

  “What is the point?” Tull said. “You plan to kill me.”

  Mahkawn fixed him with his one good eye. “What do you want?”

  Tull thought a long time before answering. Mahkawn seemed sincere, as if all the games were over. If Mahkawn planned to kill him, Tull had nothing to gain by lying. Tull had nearly escaped once, but something told him that he would never get another chance.

  “I have always wanted a large house,” Tull said, “where I could live in peace. I have wanted to be able to work for myself and keep the rewards of my labor. I have wanted to sleep soundly at night in my woman’s arms, without fear of the Slave Lords. I have wanted your nation to crumble, and for your masters to die, and for all your works to fall into the sea. I have wanted the Eridani to leave orbit, so that someday we could go to live among the stars.”

  Mahkawn thought a long time. “You often talk like a Blade Kin, but you still dream like a Pwi. I have most of the things you want. I have a big house in Bashevgo, though I do not have a wife. As a Blade Kin, I sleep with any woman I want, and I have spawned many children. I suppose you could call them family. As a Blade Kin I sleep soundly, knowing I have nothing to fear, so long as I obey my Lord. And I’ve learned to live knowing that my masters will not all die by fire or that our cities will not crumble.

  “There is no place in the world for men like you, Tull Genet. I suspect there is no place for you on this world or any other. You are young, and I forgive your lack of wisdom and your idealism. I feel sorry for you. I do not
want to waste you.

  “But I cannot let you go into the wilderness, and Lord Tantos will not let you live as a slave.”

  Now he leaned close, almost conspiratorially, and whispered, “Still, I may be able to arrange things so that you have a chance to become Blade Kin. This is a great honor. It would give you a chance to live, to survive.

  “So, I ask you because I feel that you are a friend, could you compromise? This wife”—Mahkawn said in disgust—“could you forfeit your dream of living with her? As a Blade Kin, that will never happen. A man who loves a woman can be controlled through that woman—and others would take advantage of your weakness.

  “Still, you could sleep with women, spawn a thousand children if you wish, and if your woman is captured, you could sleep with her.

  “Though we do not take wives, many Blade Kin have favorites. The sex is better with some than with others. It is the way of things.”

  “Do you have a favorite?” Tull asked, hoping Mahkawn would admit to a little compassion.

  “Yes, but I would not marry the creature. She is a Thrall, in bondage to her emotions, and to marry a Thrall is to lower yourself to its level. You and I”—Mahkawn struck his chest—“are Blade Kin. We are above them; we are Blade Kin. Do you see? You could have affection for a dog, even marry a dog—but it would still walk on four legs.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tull said, trying to draw Mahkawn out. “You say we are different, but we look like them.”

  Mahkawn sighed. “Don’t you feel the difference inside you? We are Blade Kin. You are not bound by kwea, as they are. Have you not seen it? You have no fears as they do, and you do not love as they do. All the Pwi, they are already enslaved by love and fear, and since they were born slaves, we do no wrong when we put chains on them.”

  Tull sat a moment, said the words he knew Mahkawn wanted to hear. “I used to fear when I was a child, but I broke free of it. When I was young, I did not know how to love, and I thought I would never be able to love a woman. I believed I was evil for feeling that way.”

  “No!” Mahkawn said, and excitement gleamed in his eye. “It’s not a matter of good or evil. You were born Blade Kin. That is why you can conquer your fear. How many Pwi could do this? And because you are Blade Kin, you cannot love. You are one of the wolf people, and they are the rabbit people. You were meant to eat them, to digest them. Do you see?”

  Tull nodded, felt uncomfortable.

  For years, he’d considered his dispassion a handicap, as if he were born without legs or eyes, and he had expended great effort trying to learn how to love. Yet Mahkawn valued Tull’s weakness, his character defect, and this frightened Tull, for he saw that with very little effort he could become like Mahkawn. If he had been born in Bashevgo, he would have become Blade Kin, and he would have excelled. “I see,” Tull said.

  Mahkawn clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Good. I must store you in a cage until the ship reaches Bashevgo, and there you will be sentenced to death.

  “But since you are good warrior stock, and a sorcerer to boot, I will petition to have you put in the arena. I think that Lord Tantos may allow this.

  “There, on the bloody sands, you can earn the right to become Blade Kin, as I did.”

  “How do I earn that right?” Tull asked.

  Mahkawn smiled, a warm, genuine smile. “With a sword.”

  ***

  Chapter 31: Tales of the Beast

  “Don’t move,” Phylomon said softly, and Fava dared not move, beneath the weight of the Hukm.

  The beast kept its paw on her face and growled softly.

  Phylomon raised one hand into the air, and lowered it slowly, waggling his fingers, and making a soft sighing sound as he did.

  The Hukm grunted, sniffed at Darrissea and Fava, and touched their breasts again. Then the creature displayed its own flabby breast, a great hairy sack, and backed away.

  She opened a pouch from her bandoleer, pulled out a pinch of sweet-smelling leaves, and touched the leaves to Fava’s lips.

  “Eat them,” Phylomon said. “She is a scout for the Hukm. She smells your fear, and offers food. This is her promise that you do not need to fear her. Relax, but do not move. Especially, do not smile—for the Hukm show their teeth only before they attack.”

  Fava took the leaves in her mouth, tried to choke them down.

  All around camp, hundreds of Hukm were loping north, moving like ghosts among the redwoods, swinging their long arms as they ran.

  A second Hukm came close, a crippled old dwarf of a male, not much taller than a huge man, and it sat down in the snow. The small male reached into a backpack and brought out a wooden flute, longer than Fava’s leg.

  The flute was wrapped in cloth and decorated with blue dragon feathers. He sat under a redwood on a small pile of icy snow and played long low notes on the flute, a song of wind and thunder and clear rivers rolling slowly through the flatlands. As near as Fava could figure, the beasts were trying to entertain her.

  She kept looking toward Phylomon for direction, but the blue man only gazed at the flutist, signaling with his posture that they should not try to speak.

  It was said that the Hukm did not trust humans or Pwi, and Fava could see that Phylomon kept his silence in observance of some form of protocol.

  After an hour, a great white Hukm woman came on the back of a mammoth, and hundreds of mammoths followed.

  As she dismounted, her massive necklace of carved beads chattered like teeth in the clear night air. She hefted an immense club banded with iron rings, and walked through camp, sniffing, and fondled Fava’s breast. The creature silently waggled her fingers, raising her hands and then letting them fall again.

  “This is Ironwood Woman,” Phylomon said, “leader of all of the Hukm.” Phylomon translated, “She says that she smells the scent of Tull upon Fava. She met Tull last summer when he traveled to Craal. She is honored to meet his new owner.”

  Ironwood Woman touched Fava’s belly, then moved on to Darrissea, thumbed her shirt looking for breasts. She opened her mouth in joy when she discovered them.

  Many Hukm stopped to watch their leader. The smell of fur from the massed Hukm was somehow both subtle and overpowering, a scent Fava might not notice at first, but which permeated the woods like wild garlic.

  The queen of the Hukm approached Phylomon and began waggling her fingers. The Starfarer spoke in kind, and for a long time, Fava waited, sweating in the cold.

  “The Blade Kin have been hunting the Hukm,” Phylomon translated, “and have driven them from the south. Ironwood Woman’s people are staying in the trees because of an army on Mammoth Run Plateau. So far, the army has been content to stay there. The Blade Kin dare not come into the woods.

  “The Hukm want the Pwi to join them in an attack upon Bashevgo. They’ve gathered nearly one hundred thousand for their attack—males, females, juveniles. Only their very old and very young will stay behind to stop the Blade Kin from pursuing the Hukm.

  “They want humans and Pwi to help defeat Bashevgo’s laser cannons. But they must hurry and get there soon, before the ice clears from the Straits of Zerai. Ironwood Woman wants to know if you two women can speak to your leaders in her behalf.”

  Darrissea answered shyly, “Tell Ironwood Woman that the Blade Kin have attacked us, too. They’ve captured all the towns around Smilodon Bay, and we saw huge armies heading south along the coast.”

  The blue man said brusquely. “What of Chaa and Tull. Where are they?”

  “Captured,” Darrissea answered. “Chaa had hardly begun his Spirit Walk when the Blade Kin took the city.”

  Phylomon sat back, as if astonished, as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility of an attack. Or perhaps he somehow believed that Tull would have escaped.

  “This is a great blow,” Phylomon said. “The troops that attacked the Hukm came from the west. We were hoping to draw battle lines, take the city of Bashevgo and cut off the Blade Kin’s supply routes, force them to ret
reat back west of the White Mountains.”

  Phylomon spoke with Ironwood Woman for a moment, and the great woman stopped and howled, a long ululating cry that was almost deafening.

  Darrissea did not have to speak Hukm to hear her distress. She made some violent gestures with her hands, then turned and grabbed her mammoth’s ear, leapt upon its shoulders, and went galloping north. All of the Hukm that had stopped to watch, mounted up and followed behind her.

  In just a few moments, the women were left alone with Phylomon. He sighed deeply. “We may talk freely now. Have you eaten lately?”

  “Not much for the past few days,” Fava said.

  Phylomon began setting a fire. “What happened?” Darrissea asked. “What did Ironwood Woman say?”

  “She is continuing north, to attack Bashevgo.”

  Darrissea asked, “Just like that? She isn’t even going to consult her people? How could the Hukm hope to defeat Bashevgo?”

  “Hope is where you find it,” Phylomon said. “Long ago, the ancients of Earth mastered the art of war. They learned that in order to destroy an enemy, you must first demoralize him—destroy his faith in himself. Often, a small band of men has thrown off the shackles of a great nation, but only when they believe they can or must. Now, for the first time in their lives, the Hukm see that they must destroy Bashevgo.

  “Still, I’m not sure Ironwood Woman believes she can win,” Phylomon said. “For years, the Hukm have battled with Craal and lost.

  “With armies marching from both the south and east, Ironwood Woman’s people are surrounded. The Hukm are creatures of the open plains. They fear enclosures, and as anyone who has ever fought a Hukm knows, you never want to surround them.

  “The Hukm will race to Bashevgo now before the ice thaws, to win their last battle—or die in the attempt.”

  Fava asked, “Do you think they have a chance?”

  “A chance?” Phylomon crouched in the snow, cracking twigs for kindling and setting them under the larger branches. “In the past, Tantos has guarded Bashevgo with seven divisions. By sending men south, Lord Tantos must have siphoned off some of those forces—two divisions, possibly three. Even if Tantos has only four divisions still guarding Bashevgo, the Hukm will be outnumbered by four to one.”