Uncertainty
“Damn you Tuath, I should be back in Siriso now, warm and dry with ale and Karnesh venison in my stomach. Instead I’m here escorting your sorry carcass back to the border. What did I do to deserve this? I must’ve displeased the gods somehow.” Ramin cursed and spat on the ground from her horse.
The rain was cold, persistent.
Tuath held his tongue, he was deep in thought. What had just happened? With the Simulacrum? His stunt, or rather Drath’s stunt, had left him dismayed. He’d not imagined the demon to be so powerful and yet the Simulacrum were not impressed, their magic was greater, they had progressed. Maybe they were stronger than the Imperial Mages.
He could not believe he’d delivered Bright Feather’s message. She would ask exactly what the Simulacrum had said, how they had reacted. This then was his play.
He would need to plant the seed of betrayal in her heart. How? He had not yet decided, he would need to be subtle, careful. To play one side off the other, he was not interested in Ashtoreth and Morrigan, they meant nothing to him. His village and family had meant everything to him, he had to hurt the Simulacrum by whatever means possible.
“So, two moons then, the Parly Fields at the Swift and Brightwater? Well that’s original,” Ramin said sarcastically.
Tuath had an idea. “You’re supposed to deliver me to the border?”
“Thought you’d lost your tongue. Aye, what of it?” Ramin replied.
“It’d really make my job easier if you came with me. My mistress would believe me if you were there to back up my story.”
“You jest. You mean she doesn’t trust you?”
Tuath looked Ramin in the eyes. “There’s not much trust around these days. You can verify your masters’ instructions to her, your presence will carry weight, she will heed your words. You’ll be an ambassador for Siriso and the Simulacrum.”
Ramin chewed on her makkra leaves. Her long braided hair was slick with rain, her face cold and pale. “She would not think me a spy?”
“No, so long as you stay with me, you’d have safe passage, my mistress would extend her protection to you. I give you my word.”
“Your word? Hah! You make me laugh. You must be mad to think I’d go with you to your city. What do you take me for? A fool?”
Tuath looked down, he could hear ambivalence in her voice. He had planted an idea, he would step back, let it grow, it was two days ride to the border. A lot could happen in two days. He turned his eyes to the trail and looked down on the cloudy forest below.
It would be a long two days.
~
“The players are playing their roles, just as planned,” Ashtoreth crooned smoothly to her astral companion, she stroked the cougar’s fur. It still gave her a thrill when the big cat purred under her finger tips.
She tightened the sight mask which gave her access to the astral and physical planes. The cougar was her eyes in the astral plane. She saw places, people… she saw into men’s hearts and minds. This Erthe was hers, for the taking. She could read them all, the Erthe and all its players were transparent to her. She was a stream of consciousness, she was a river of all seeing thought.
She had reincarnated stronger this time. Death’s exile had refined her, attuned her skills, this return was sweet, majestic. Her blindness in the physical realm had been a surprise, granted, a disappointment until she had learned why she was blind… it allowed her to see the unseen.
But her reincarnation was tinged with bitterness, for along with life came emotion.
She remembered her childhood with Morrigan, young princesses, full of beauty and promise, followed by suitors and the intrigues of the royal court. She remembered the whisperings, the sycophants, the tension and paranoia. She remembered them betraying and murdering her father, her family.
Her father had prepared for that eventuality.
He had the loyalty of the Kurgan Sect and they held the keys to reincarnation magic.
When her father had first suggested it she had laughed. How had the Kurgans won this prize from the firmament? Reincarnation was a myth, a lie. Ashtoreth had wanted proof, and proof she had been given. The Kurgans had demonstrated their power, sacrificing a young acolyte, a boy no more than twelve. He had willingly given his spirit to the Life Taker’s blade, his blood collected, words and prayers woven around his body.
And he had returned, back to his body, in front of their eyes.
They were sold, they became believers.
Two months later the Stone Lords came for them in their beds, their mother and father were slain where they lay. The Stone Lords violated then killed the young princesses. Ashtoreth and Morrigan knew they would outlive these men through the reincarnation spell hidden in their veins. They would return, to haunt and wreck vengeance on these men’s descendants, taking their lands and power.
Ashtoreth and Morrigan would rule the Erthe with blood and steel.
Ashtoreth would expunge all traces of these men’s so called civilization, built on the back of slavery and war. The blood she would spill would be righteous, cleansing. She and Morrigan would breathe the air of a new Erthe, built on the ashes of the old. It would be theirs alone, their work would be a beautiful thing, a memorial to their parents who were lost to eternity.
Wrong would be righted, balance restored.
Ashtoreth smiled as she reached out to her sister. “Morrigan, your son is born, my blood is your blood. Your son will open death’s gate and bring our army into the light, at the solstice. We are almost there sister, have faith, stay strong, together we will take our inheritance. Vanth will reclaim what is rightfully ours, danger lies along the way, be vigilant, but also know nothing can stand in our way. We are divinity, we are one.”
Morrigan reached out and touched her sister’s mind. “Sister, your words are truth. We are in Si an Bhru, we breathe its air and darkness. The Erthe sent an elemental to hinder us, it was no match for Vanth. It is only hours to the solstice, the barrow is our womb, our army will be born tonight. Soon Ashtoreth, my sister, we will rule the lands, seas and skies.”
Ashtoreth shuddered in pleasure at her sister’s words. The cougar brushed its tail around her leg.
Life was good at last.
~
Tuath watched Ramin, she was quiet the next day, she ignored the others in the patrol. They shrugged, giving her space. By the next evening Tuath knew she had reached a decision. She looked at him long and hard that day. They pushed the pace and made it through the cloudy forest to the border by dusk. They made their camp in the rain and had a cheerless meal huddled up against some low rocks in the trees.
Ramin approached Tuath. “Your words have been troubling me. Are you a word weaver too?”
Tuath looked puzzled.
“Never mind,” Ramin said. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal. There’s some merit in your idea. I could accompany you beyond the border, meet with your mistress and return to the Parly Fields in two moons. I could keep an eye on you and events that unfold. I would be under your protection, granted, but I would be the eyes within for my people.”
Tuath nodded holding Ramin’s gaze. “So you are coming with me?”
Ramin nodded. “Yes.”
Tuath kept his face impassive. Inside he was relieved, things were going better than expected. His plot was unfolding, weaving through the days and the rain like a spear thrown at the heart of the enemy. He did not know how it would end, but he was one step closer to eviscerating the Simulacrum.
Ramin explained the plan to her second in command. Tuath watched them. There were raised voices, much remonstration, but finally Ramin’s decision was accepted.
“How will your men explain your absence to your leaders when they return without you?” Tuath asked Ramin later.
“Moreth and the others will patrol the borderlands for the next few weeks. Then they’ll head to the Parly Fields to wait and observe, a forward party. So they’ll tell our leaders when they arrive, or if I get there first I
’ll do so myself.”
“Will they be angry that you’ve come with me?”
“Yes and… no, maybe not. There’s no right or wrong here, there are just decisions. It is what it is, nothing more. If I’m able to provide an advantage to the negotiations they’ll be pleased.”
“You have family?”
Ramin looked at Tuath, he sensed he’d crossed a line.
“You ask a lot of questions outsider. Remember, we’re not friends.” Ramin walked away.
Tuath did not sleep that night but lay awake beside the fire, his thoughts aflame. He tried to see his way through the maze of danger, what could happen, what would happen. He was fooling himself, he was no good at intrigue; manipulation was not his way. Before, in his old life he’d been a man of the land, hunting, fishing, working on his small croft, content in his community and the reassuring simplicity of life.
Beauty lay in simplicity, in little things, beauty and happiness. Now he was surrounded by nothing but ugliness. He had become an instrument for hatred, it coursed through his veins, consuming him. He knew it would lead to his death. He looked at Ramin and the others around the camp. They were all participants in this game.
Insight blew through Tuath, he knew a bigger game was afoot and that he was but a small part. Finally, his fatigue caught up with him, he fell asleep.
“Get up, time to go.” Ramin kicked his foot and went back to her own preparations. The rain had stopped, early morning sun glinted through the trees, birdsong filled the air. Tuath rolled over and stood, stiff and cold in every joint. He was too old for this, he mused. He ate lukewarm oatmeal and drank his fill of water from the stream nearby. His clothes stank, he stank, they all stank… the body did not lie, it told only the truth. Blood, sweat and human waste, those smells followed men wherever they went, whatever they did.
Tuath laughed to himself, at the absurdity of it all, men’s hopes, dreams, worries, expectations. It was all a game, a joke, he could see why Loki played dice with humans, using them all for amusement, it made sense. If he were Loki he’d do the same.
Well, I’ll do my part in this, it’ll unfold. I’ll ride the wave of chaos…
“What’re you laughing at? You’re not losing your mind are you? Next you’ll be talking to yourself,” Ramin said, approaching with two horses.
“I was just remembering something a friend said to me once,” Tuath lied.
“I don’t think there’ll be much laughter on this trip, do you?”
The sun caught Tuath’s eyes, he looked down.
“Here, time to go,” Ramin handed him his horse’s reins.
Tuath nodded and mounted the horse, he looked back and was surprised to see they were alone, the other members of the patrol had left, melting into the trees. He shuddered and cautioned himself not to underestimate the Simulacrum.
They rode most of the morning, stopping for a short break at midday. They stayed in the saddle the rest of the day. They stopped at nightfall and made camp. Tuath fell asleep almost instantly, the fatigue of the last few days catching up with him. The next three days passed in a blur of endless hours on horseback. Rivers, trees, ravines. On the fourth day the trees thinned, they came to the rolling hills and fields of the Imperial hinterland.
Tuath was home, the wilds lay behind them.
He felt a stranger in his own land, he had changed. He looked at Ramin, the Simulacrum Lords had taken something from him, Ramin had taken something from him, Drath and Bright Feather too. They all had taken a piece of him, he felt empty.
Used.
It is what it is.
Loki alone knows what is to happen to me, he will spend my life as he sees fit. Stop thinking so much, stop worrying.
“Over to you now.” Ramin had stopped and was looking at him. “From now on you lead, I follow.”
Tuath nodded and pulled ahead of Ramin. He looked in the distance to the south west, another two days and they would be at the Imperial City of Dej. He wanted to gallop there, arrive in a heartbeat, he did not know what to expect. Would the balance of power be the same? Would Bright Feather be there? What was his back-up plan?
Tuath felt a wave of paralysis; he did not have a back-up plan.
He looked at Ramin. An idea began to form, it would need some thought but there was an angle he could use. His panic receded, he felt in control once more.
The gates of the Imperial City beckoned.
Chapter 17
Bear Witness
Snap out of it! You are so close, you cannot afford to falter. The Twist is within reach, find the keystone, your hand will unlock the dream, the dream will take you to the song and the song will unlock the Twist. It will embrace your body and soul, making you the vessel of destruction, to kill for the Mother, to kill for the Erthe. Wake up and fight, do not retreat, do not die!
The words of Raine’s inner voice came to her as she stumbled down the mountain. The following days passed in a fearful blur. She forced herself on, driven by the words in her mind, pushing, pulling her. Her body was a slave to the words, responding, moving, falling, moving again, closer, to Si an Bhru.
The third day after the waterfall she reached the plains. The hill of the dead rose in the distance, it was unmistakable, lying alone on the vast plain surrounded by sighing grasses. She’d be there by nightfall. Part of her was relieved, part of her dreaded finally arriving, alone, without an idea of what to do. Her feet were blistered, her muscles bruised, she had not eaten in two days. She had given up on everything except reaching the hill.
She concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. The whole world became her feet, she stared at them counting to five hundred before looking up again to see the hill looming ahead. It was working, the hill grew in size and finally, by late evening she stood before it.
Si an Bhru.
She was here, she had done it.
She gazed vacantly at the looming shape. She felt nothing, she was empty. Finished. She wanted to drop to the ground and expire. She looked at her feet seeing the cuts and dried blood. She was detached from everything, she felt nothing. She stared at the hill for a long time, daylight was fading.
She fell to the ground exhausted, blackness descended.
Raine woke in the early hours, cold and shivering. She did not care, she closed her eyes and passed out again. Her body refused to die. A few hours later she woke, early morning sun touching her skin, its light dancing behind her eyelids. She blinked, squinting against the brightness, rolled onto her side and sat up on her knees. The air was chill, the grass heavy with dew, she looked at the hill and saw she was near a doorway.
She tried to stand but her legs failed. She collapsed into the long grass, her eyes fixed on the doorway. The sun gathered strength and lit up the entrance its rays penetrating the passage beyond. The stones outside the entrance took on a golden hue, taking on a life of their own. She parted the grass in front of her face to get a better view, pain crept through her legs as the circulation returned.
Raine froze.
She heard rumbling deep within the barrow, vibrations in the earth reached her chest and gripped her. Something was happening, she lay in the grass watching the barrow, transfixed. After a few minutes the noise stopped and the sun’s rays moved, the passage returned to darkness.
Raine’s eyes darted left and right. Movement came from the barrow’s entrance. She stared but did not understand.
The first few figures were transparent, indistinct, then others emerged from the passage. Soon there were twelve, twenty, thirty. They kept coming, men, women, children, all armed, all transparent, the sun’s rays playing with their forms, their edges blurred. They continued to emerge from the barrow, their numbers grew, fanning out from the entrance.
She understood.
Si an Bhru was spewing forth an army, from the otherside. This force was not banished by daylight, this was an army that could take on anything in the living world. Her world. The ghostly army fell into ranks, she was hidden and remained undet
ected in the long grass among the outer stones. After an hour hundreds of warriors stood in rows in front of the barrow.
A pause followed and for a few minutes no new forms appeared. Then, three figures, different to the rest, stepped out from the barrow. The first was a woman with long blonde hair and black robes, her eyes wild and staring, she walked quickly to inspect the gathered warriors. The second, a half-naked young man, bearded, muscular with long braided hair, he followed the woman. The third figure was formidable, wearing black armour, his face hidden behind a helm and visor. His outline was indistinct, blurry, like the other warriors. He stopped and looked back at the passage, he lifted his arm and beckoned.
Raine watched as more shade warriors swarmed from the barrow. The woman remained deep in conversation with her two lieutenants before striding towards the ranks of her assembled army. The other two started directing and issuing orders to the gathering host.
Raine’s heart was pounding, her breathing shallow, a bead of sweat trickled down her back like a fingernail, scratching her spine. Raine’s eyes never left the woman, she was the one in charge, this was her army, she was taking command. Just as the woman reached the end of a row of warriors she stopped and tilted her head slightly as if listening, she turned, searching.
Her eyes settled on Raine’s position for a heartbeat then flicked away. At last she moved on disappearing into her army’s massed ranks. Raine felt a pain in her chest and realised she had been holding her breath. She exhaled putting her forehead on the ground, her neck and back ached. She listened and heard orders in the distance, she looked up once more. The army was on the move, hundreds of warriors heading east, their feet silent. Raine watched, fascinated, no noise, no dust, this army would be able to attack undetected.
She watched them depart then saw more warriors emerging from the barrow. She lost count, thousands swelled the plain, easily a match for the Imperial armies and Simulacrum hordes combined. It was not just the ghostly warriors that held her attention, interspersed among their ranks towered huge armoured trolls, wielding massive clubs. Raine realised she was witnessing the birth of a war… on her kind.
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