Forerunner pushed past Marshal and approached the pilgrim, arms lifted in welcome. “Another wanderer on this life’s road!” he exclaimed. “I am Forerunner. It is an honor to meet you, good sir.”
The pilgrim looked a bit taken aback. “I am… Kishin.”
“Oh, Kishin.” Forerunner put a hand to his face. “How great is your loss! How much you have suffered! This world of curses is so unjust.”
“You are… most perceptive.”
“It is my job to restore that which was lost. For you, I must consider carefully. One thing you have lost can be restored almost immediately. After that… well, this should be quite interesting.”
Victor stepped up next to him. “If you’re feeling confused, that’s how all of us feel around him.”
Kishin nodded.
“I’m Victor, by the way, and this is Topleb. The quiet one there is Marshal.”
“So pleased to meet you,” Kishin said. He extended his hand to Marshal.
Marshal blinked, surprised to be addressed. He held out his own hand and took Kishin’s. “You are welcome here,” he said.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
Using his real name had given him a moment of panic. He hadn’t meant to say it. But even so, it should be safe. None of these people had ever heard his name. Certainly, there had been no reason to offer it when he had been trying to kill them.
But who was this Forerunner person? How had he come to join Marshal’s band? His words struck deep. Kishin couldn’t figure out if he truly did perceive things that no one should know, or if he made wild guesses. The words could be interpreted in multiple ways, after all. Still, he found it unnerving. The tall, white-and-gray haired man that walked behind Forerunner puzzled him even more. Kishin took him for some kind of barbarian, perhaps from somewhere beyond Antises.
He chided himself for his impatience. He should have scouted the band, identifying each one before actually meeting them.
No sign of the Eldani warden, though. Out of all of them, he was the only one Kishin feared could recognize him, despite his lifted curse. His absence, though unexplained, helped greatly.
Four more in the back. He started to turn toward them when Topleb slapped him on the back. “Tell me, friend pilgrim, where have you come from? Tell me it is Woqan. I must hear of Woqan!”
Kishin smiled at him. “I have indeed come from Woqan,” he said. “Are you from there as well?”
“Ah, no,” Topleb said. “I live in a small village on the east side. Still, I have spent much time in the great city. But I have not visited in too long. Have they completed the latest pyramids?”
“You know the pyramid construction. It never ends.” They shared a laugh, and the group resumed walking.
“I’m going to have to see these pyramids one day,” Victor said.
“Indeed! I have told you many times now. And here is someone else to show that I lie not!”
“I’ve never said you lied! Horribly exaggerated, perhaps, but not lying.”
The two men exchanged insults and boasts like old friends, or soldiers who had fought together. Kishin wondered that Marshal did not join in the conversation. He could speak; he had welcomed Kishin himself. Yet he seemed withdrawn, not interested in what happened around him.
What had changed? According to his reports, Marshal had fought to liberate Tungrorum and endeared himself to its people. Yet here he walked as if his curse had never left him.
“What has led such a unique assemblage to travel to the high place?” he asked. Such an inquiry would be expected. Anything more specific would be unusual.
“We’re fulfilling promises to some friends,” Victor answered. “We met some of these others along the way, and they joined up with us, just like you.”
“Is all well with the Lord and Lady?” Topleb asked. “I heard there was trouble at the Passing this year.”
“Yes, they are well,” Kishin answered. For the next few miles, he exchanged news and pleasantries with Topleb, who was eager for news of his homeland. Victor joined into the conversation now and then. Marshal remained quiet. Forerunner did not engage him again, thankfully.
Topleb enjoyed the sound of his own voice. It did not take Kishin long to uncover bits of information he suspected the others would have kept to themselves. He learned that most of the men in the party had fought together under Lord Volraag. Intriguing. How had Marshal come to that situation?
He also learned that the two women in the back of the group made things so much more complicated, at least in Topleb’s opinion. “They are always needing time and space to themselves,” he complained.
“But they are nice to look at,” Victor said, eliciting a laugh from his friend.
“See? You are in Ch’olan only a few days and already you become more enlightened! You see beauty in skin with a proper color, not pale like you.”
“I am an admirer of the female form in all colors!” Victor protested.
Kishin glanced back but could not see the women. After the laughter subsided, he asked, “The women are from Ch’olan also, then?”
“One of them is,” Victor said. “She’s some kind of warrior. The other is from Arazu.”
“She’s a mage!” Topleb inserted.
Kishin felt a tremble. A lady mage with a warrior woman from Ch’olan. It could not be. The odds were extreme. He glanced back again and caught Forerunner looking at him with a knowing smile. Impossible. How could he know? How could this… Enough. He had to know.
“Oh, pardon me,” he said, coming to a stop. “I believe my sandal has come loose. You needn’t stop. I will catch up.”
Topleb and Victor continued on, followed by Marshal. Forerunner actually winked at him. Maddening. The other man ignored him. He finished pretending to fix his sandal and stood as the final four approached.
“Hello,” said the girl in mage robes. “Who are you?”
“I am Kishin, my lady, and I—” He broke off at the sight of her companion.
Kishin was undone.
His daughter stood before him. Dressed in the traditional Holcan warrior garb, she could not have been more beautiful. She looked strong, powerful, everything she would have wanted. Everything he would have wanted for her. And the feathers. She wore the same feathers he had left beside her the last night before he let her go.
“And you what?” The mage looked amused.
“I, I am delighted to meet you.”
“I’m Seri. This is Ixchel, Dravid, and Rufus. What are you doing on this road?”
“He’s a pilgrim,” Ixchel said. “On his way to the high place.” She looked him over with a trained eye. Kishin’s sword remained hidden on his back, under the robe.
“And you are one of the Holcan. Though, I don’t fully know why you’re here.”
“I have been assigned to guard the Lady Seri.”
Kishin nodded. Just as Kuch had said. He struggled not to stare at Ixchel. Ixchel. Had he given her that name? He felt ashamed that he could not even remember. So much of his life before the curse remained a haze even now.
Dravid and Rufus each greeted him, but he paid little attention. He needed to learn more of Ixchel, but he couldn’t ask to many direct questions. Perhaps he should learn more about this mage first.
“What brings a mage to this part of Ch’olan?” he asked. “One of the warriors up there said you were from Arazu?”
Seri nodded. “I’m a very long way from home. I’m… learning about all aspects of the magic of Antises, as part of my education. The high places need much more study.”
Her attempt at a lie was blatantly obvious. This young woman lacked all guile.
“Of course. They have long been revered as places of both magic and faith. And Ch’olan’s is the only one readily accessible.”
“Oh? Have you been to the other two?”
“Oh, no. But I have heard that both are buried beneath the ground.”
“I wonder how that happened.” Seri seemed to be
thinking hard about something. Kishin’s eyes darted to Ixchel again, only to find her staring at him.
“I must speak to Forerunner,” she said abruptly, and sped up to catch the others.
Kishin watched her go, his heart aching.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
VOLRAAG, TEZAN, AND Rathri waded onto shore. Tezan shook water from his boots then pointed inland. “According to the captain, that road just in sight there will take us directly to the high place.”
Volraag opened his mouth to agree, then paused. Now on land, he felt something else. “My brother is near,” he said.
Rathri’s head shot up and he looked in every direction. “How close?”
“Not very. But not too far, either.” Volraag considered for a moment. “It makes sense that he would be coming here. He was at the last site, as well. He must have a plan of some sort.”
“It did not sound like it, from what our spy told us back at the war,” Rathri argued.
Volraag clenched his fist and felt his power vibrate out from it. Some loose sand billowed into the air around him. “I have grown very tired of him.”
“Shall I go kill him for you?”
“Not yet. I want to be sure his power is mine before he dies. I don’t want any more surprises.” Volraag paused again, thinking. “But… do go find out who he has with him and what they are up to, if you can. If our spy is still with them, use him. Let him come meet me at the high place, but if he has any significant help, stop them from joining him.”
“It shall be done.” Rathri paused and pointed at the road. “Just before you reach the high place, the path will enter a tunnel. Be careful. The tunnels were built to suppress magic. Go through it quickly.”
“Wait.” Volraag frowned. “How can something suppress magic?”
Rathri shrugged. “No one is quite sure. The tunnels have been in place for generations. Some natural feature of the earth itself, I suppose. Perhaps they were longer in the past, meant to trap anyone or anything that emerged from the portal.” He shrugged again and set off at a light jog.
Tezan and Volraag watched him go. The wild magician turned to Volraag. “Well, the atmosphere has just improved greatly. I suspect our conversation will, also.”
“Indeed.” Volraag began walking toward the road. “Do you still have the hunger?”
Tezan didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Why do you think I am still here?”
“As if you could escape me.”
“If I wanted to, I could be gone by tomorrow morning. Without Rathri and his blades, you have no power over me.”
Volraag stopped and faced him again. The ground around them both shook. “Are you sure about that?”
Tezan appeared unfazed. “I am sure. When you fall asleep tonight, I could get up and walk away.” He paused for a long moment. “But I won’t.” Before Volraag could speak again, he rushed on: “It is not because of your supposed cause. I don’t know if you even believe in that yourself any more. No. I am here because I want the power. Nothing else.”
Volraag’s eyes grew narrower throughout Tezan’s speech. “Whatever it takes. I am not done with you yet.”
Tezan took a drink from his water pouch. “I just wish I could get the salt taste out of my mouth,” he grumbled.
Volraag nodded and resumed walking. No matter how much water or wine he drank, the salt taste remained, a constant reminder of the hunger for power within him. Was Tezan right? Did he even care about his cause any more? The Eldanim power that coursed through him now had changed him, perhaps more than he was willing to admit.
Regardless, the portal—and Marshal—awaited.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
MARSHAL PUT THE unusual pilgrim out of his mind, though he could hear Victor and Topleb discussing him in great detail. His thoughts, as they had for several days, followed dark paths, all of them centered on his glimpse of the stars with Seri.
Until that moment, he had put thoughts of the Otherworld’s stars far from him. But now… now it all came rushing back, overwhelming him with the desire, the need to be there, to see them again. To do so, he would have to pass through the high place, leaving behind his friends, abandoning all they hoped to accomplish. If Seri’s ideas were right, he would be abandoning Antises itself.
Yet he could not deny the temptation. He even had an excuse ready: he needed to go find Talinir. Wasn’t that the original point of coming here, anyway? And he should do that. It was his fault. He needed to rescue Talinir. And who knew how long it could last?
Seri hadn’t spoken to him since the encounter. He disgusted her. Worse, he disappointed her. She wanted him to be a king, a hero, the one to restore Antises. She knew the truth now. He was none of those things. He couldn’t be.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He glanced to his right and found Forerunner beside him. The mysterious man seemed to always be lurking nearby, no matter where he went.
“No, thank you.”
“No doubt you are pondering what awaits us at our destination.”
He always seemed to know far more than he should.
“There may be more than you expect,” Forerunner went on. “The high place is of great interest to certain others, you know.”
In that moment, Marshal knew. “Volraag. He’s near.”
“He started a war over one high place,” Forerunner pointed out. “If he is here, what will he do for this one?”
Marshal straightened. “We need to be ready. I’ll tell the others tonight—” He stopped only because Ixchel strode up on the other side of Forerunner. She looked even less pleased than usual.
“Is this your doing?” she demanded.
Forerunner cocked his head. “To what do you refer, my dear?”
Ixchel pointed toward those at the back. “The ‘pilgrim.’ He just happens to be named Kishin?”
“I did not bring him here.”
“But you claimed…” Her brows furrowed.
“Ah, I see. That strand of hope.” He held up his fingers, pantomiming pulling on something. “You fear to let it come forth.”
“It is not possible!” Ixchel’s fierceness made Marshal want to step away from this conversation, but his curiosity kept him walking beside Forerunner.
“I have told you,” Forerunner said. “My job is to restore that which was lost. In some cases, I act directly. In others, I sit back and wait. Things which seemed impossible… happen. As long as I am around, anyway.”
Marshal couldn’t help himself. “Are you saying that what we see as coincidence is actually some subtle magic on your part?”
Forerunner’s smile expanded. “That is a brilliant way of stating it. Things just seem to fall into place while I’m around.” He looked back to Ixchel. “Or more specifically, things are… restored.”
“Some things do not need to be restored,” Ixchel answered. She looked almost ready to draw her sword.
They all came to a stop and simultaneously all realized that Topleb and Victor had stopped also. Victor had drawn his sword.
“Did you see it?” Topleb asked.
“See what?”
Victor took a step toward the side of the road, sliding into a defensive stance. “Curse-stalker,” he said. “A big one.”
Ixchel whirled the other direction, sword already in her hand. “Another one on this side.”
“There are many such creatures in this area,” Topleb said. “They are drawn to the high place. This is why our pilgrim desired numbers.”
“Not his only reason,” Ixchel muttered.
Victor moved closer to the undergrowth. Something large just out of sight moved away. The sounds of its movement faded away. “I think we’ve scared it off,” Victor said.
“We’ll need to move with more caution,” Marshal said. “Topleb, I think we can all follow the road now. I want you to move to the center of the party, where your atlatl can strike in any direction. Victor and I will stay in the front. Ixchel, you and Rufus will be in charge of making sure one of them
doesn’t sneak up on us.”
Everyone turned to look at him while he spoke. Victor raised an eyebrow and had a funny grin. “What?”
“No, it’s a good plan. Just… glad to hear from you again.”
Dravid looked around. Ten people, all gathered around the same fire. All of them looked a little nervous, except Calu. All day, they had seen glimpses of curse-stalkers moving about. They couldn’t tell if they kept seeing the same two or three creatures, or many more. But everyone had seen at least one.
It made sense, unfortunately. Curse-stalkers were drawn to magic, so naturally they haunted the area around a magic portal. Or high place or whatever you called it. And now they had an assemblage of magic-infused people all in one place. No wonder the beasts kept coming closer. Eventually, one or more of them would risk an attack. The inevitability worried him.
Dravid touched the burn scar on the back of his hand. It still hurt, even though his fight with the curse-stalker had been weeks ago. Did Marshal’s scars still hurt? He couldn’t imagine the pain the other young man had gone through. Burns all around his head. Dravid shivered.
Marshal alone would be enough to draw the curse-stalkers, with all his power. Plus Forerunner and Calu. Dravid held power, and Seri always had a little stored within her, whether intentional or not. Seri said Victor had an odd sort of power absorbed from proximity to Marshal. Even Rufus radiated some magic, because of his curse. That left only Ixchel and Topleb without any magic. And the pilgrim.
Seri, beside him, looked back out into the encroaching woods. Ixchel called it jungle, not woods, but Dravid didn’t get the distinction. “They don’t hunt in packs, do they?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“I have not known them to do so,” Ixchel said. “But these are unusual circumstances.”
Dravid noticed a gap in the group. He looked from face to face. “Where’s Rufus?” he exclaimed. Everyone else looked around in a hurry. The limping soldier was nowhere to be seen.
Victor leaped to his feet, sword already drawn. “Rufus!” he shouted.
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