The Ban of Irsisri_An Epic Fantasy

by Mark E Lacy

  This was the same longboat he'd seen in Icefast Hold.

  A slight tap of wood against wood caused him to turn. In the stern, a lone figure stood, leaning on a staff and holding a lantern whose feeble light did little to push away the gloom. It was a slender woman with skin blacker than darkness, gray hair cut close to her scalp, her gray robes draping a bony frame. The boat rocked gently as she approached the sorcerer and sat on a nearby bench.

  “Who are you, old woman?” said Raethir Del, but he already knew the answer. The woman grasped the Staff of Khymera like it was a part of her.

  “Me? I'm the one whose bones you disturbed in Icefast Hold. I'm the one from whom you took this staff.”

  “Khymera? This can't be happening. You're dead. Are you a ghost?”

  “That word has no meaning here.”

  “And where exactly is 'here'?”

  “In a world separated from your own by the width of a hair.”

  “How did I get here?” said Raethir Del.

  “When the Staff left my grasp, you triggered a trap.”

  “You put a secondary on the Staff?” he said with raised eyebrows.

  “Did you really think you could get away with it?” Khymera looked up at the green moon, shaking her head. “What arrogance.”

  “So, you trapped me,” said Raethir Del. “What do you want with me?”

  “I certainly don't need your companionship. I could send you back minus something important to you. Like maybe your ruta.” Khymera let that sink in for a moment. “But perhaps you could help me.”

  “Help you?”

  “You have something I want.”

  Raethir Del smirked. He didn’t ask what it was. “And why should I give it to you?”

  “Because you won't want to spend one more minute in this world with me.”

  The sorcerer laughed. “I could get up and take the Staff from you, old woman.”

  “You think me that powerless, young fool? If I handed you the Staff, you would be no less trapped.” She paused, crossing her arms on her chest. “Tell me, Raethir Del. Why is the Staff so important to you? What are you really after?”

  The Gatekeeper ignored her question. “If you're so powerful, why are you still here? Return to my world, or, better yet, just die and get it over with.”

  “Return? That's exactly why I want you to give me what I want.”

  “And that is?”

  “The Dreamtunnel.”

  Raethir Del knew he couldn't feign ignorance with a musara as skilled as Khymera. “You think I've got the Dreamtunnel curse.”

  “No, I don't think you do. I know you do.”

  “And you think the Dreamtunnel could return you to our world? What would you do, put it on yourself and hope it returns you? What makes you think you can control it?”

  “Put it on me and try to control it?” She laughed. “No, I would put it on you.”

  “On me? What good would that do you?”

  “Think, Raethir Del. Or did you not know that the Dreamtunnel affects both its wielder as well as its victim?”

  “I'm not following you.” The Gatekeeper's stomach clenched in anticipation.

  “The wielder and the victim are linked by the Curse. Even though the victim is translocated from one place to the next, the wielder and the victim act like lodestones to one another, periodically bringing their paths together in the Weave. All I have to do is put you in the Dreamtunnel, and eventually, by the Dreamtunnel's power, you'll pull me out of this world.”

  Raethir Del pushed his worries about the Gauntletbearer aside. “That's not much of a choice, Khymera. The Dreamtunnel or damnation with you.”

  The old woman stood and splashed a sandaled foot in a small puddle in the bottom of the longboat. “Choose,” she said, looking down at him.

  “I can't.”

  “Can't? Or won't?”

  “I can't give you the Dreamtunnel.”

  “Why?” Once Khymera realized Raethir Del was not going to answer her, she put her hand to her mouth. “Damn you to the nine hells, you've done it, haven't you?”

  “Done what?”

  “You've already used the Curse.”

  “Yes.”

  “And it can only be used once.”

  “Yes.”

  Khymera shrieked in anger and struck at him with the Staff, but he batted it aside just before it would've cracked his skull. Eyes wide, panting, she stood with arms outstretched and turned completely around.

  “Look at this! I sail an empty longboat on a dark sea with only the mist for company. I've lost track of the months, the years, I've spent aboard this cursed boat.” She sat down heavily on the bench and placed her head in her hands. After several long moments, she looked up at him. “Why? Why, Raethir Del?”

  “Why?”

  “What drove you to use the Dreamtunnel? You wouldn't waste it on something trivial, I'm sure, but I know all your enemies. They're all accounted for. What fear motivated you?”

  “Fear? The only thing I fear is running out of enemies to fight.”

  “Glib but far from convincing,” said the sorceress. “Reveal your true fear, musara.”

  “And how might that help me right now?”

  “How could it hurt?” countered Khymera. “You're stuck here.”

  Raethir Del climbed up and sat on the bench across from her. “There's something I'm trying to obtain, but there is an age-old ban on this thing. By trying to get it, I may be risking a terrible fate.”

  “Then, why do you want the Staff?”

  “There is a secondary keeping me from taking what I want from the man who has it. He's protected. One of your creatures, though, should be able to sever the secondary.”

  “What exactly is it you're trying to get your hands on?”

  Raethir Del didn't answer immediately. He took a deep breath and said, “The Gauntlets.”

  “The Gauntlets? Gods, you're trying to take the Gauntlets? You're even more a fool than I realized.” Khymera shook her head. “You're breaking the Ban of Irsisri,” she continued in a small voice. “You won't be safe anywhere, not even here. Damn you, I could wind up sharing your fate. They could say I harbored you, or worse, that I helped you get them.”

  Raethir Del just stared at her, her gaze fixed on the bottom of the boat.

  “You must go,” continued Khymera, standing up, turning away. “I don't want you here. Go, now.”

  “Go? Go where? How? You're the one who brought me here.”

  “I will send you back, but yes, the question is, how?” She closed her eyes, knitting her brow, holding her head in her hands.

  Raethir Del waited.

  After a minute or two, the sorceress opened her eyes. “The Staff,” she said. “I will send you back with the Staff.”

  “You will give me the Staff?”

  She snarled at him. “I have no choice. It was what brought you here, so you can't return without it.”

  Without warning, Khymera passed her hand over his mouth, his ears, his eyes. In moments, Raethir Del was mute, deaf, and blind. He felt Khymera press the Staff into his hands.

  There was a muffled shout as Khymera spoke the vradu name for the Staff. An agonizing jolt hit him. As a stone floor materialized beneath his feet, Raethir Del lost his balance and hit his head against the floor.

  Raethir Del opened his eyes to find himself back in Icefast Hold, the Staff clutched to his chest.

  Chapter 40

  Longhorn jumped back, almost knocking three people down. A knife whizzed just inches from where he had stood and thunked into a plank wall. A young boy was pinned by a fold of his cloak to the wall of a brass-seller's booth. Frantically, the lad tried to free himself, but in an instant, an angry merchant stood before him. Taking the youth by his cloak, the merchant freed his knife and dragged the boy away, berating him for stealing in one breath and yelling for a city guard in the next.

  The irrilai tribesman took a deep breath and relaxed. There were too many ways danger could
approach, too many forms it could take, and it would never be seen because of the crowds of Paerecisi citizens haggling over purchases. The Plains of Forlannar were much safer, he thought.

  Longhorn and the resari had traveled mainly by day, making good time once they reached the road between Aldirg and Paerecis. Then, last night, at Longhorn's urging, they pushed on to Paerecis. It was likely they were being pursued by Raethir Del. They would be harder to find in the city.

  They arrived in Paerecis about midmorning and found an inn where they rested briefly. He had expected Ardemis and Ki'rana to stay at the inn, but they seemed caught up in the excitement of the city and chose to explore instead. Now, in late afternoon, Longhorn was growing weary. The irrilai hoped his companions would soon tire and call a halt to their exploring.

  He stood in the middle of the market section of Paerecis. In both directions down the street, hundreds of people were buying and selling and trading, praising and insulting and dickering. The din was so high normal conversation was impossible. Hawkers yelled at potential customers, and donkeys brayed at persistent drovers. Mongrel dogs barked, and children in rags squealed as they chased the dogs among the stalls.

  The tribesman's senses were bombarded by other things as well. There was food here, freshly caught or slaughtered, or freshly cooked and sold on steaming skewers. There were also diversions, from skilled jugglers and poor musicians to convincing future-tellers and painted harlots.

  The three weary travelers had come to the market to lose themselves among the masses of humanity, and they were successful. The irrilai had no idea where to find Ardemis and Ki'rana. That made him very uneasy. Why did I let them go their separate ways?

  For several minutes, Longhorn's eyes searched the marketplace. For an instant, he thought he saw a familiar form, one he associated with danger, but the person's features were concealed in the shadows of a hooded cloak. Whoever it was had disappeared in the crowds.

  Ah, foolish you are, Longhorn, he told himself. You've lived with danger for so long you're seeing it all around you.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he whirled around.

  “Looking for me?” asked Ardemis.

  Longhorn relaxed and smiled, hoping the musaresara had not seen his hand fly to the hilt of his sword.

  “In fact, yes,” Longhorn replied. “What have you found?”

  The resara produced a large sack, opened it up, and showed the irrilai the empty space within.

  “Not a thing I could afford to buy or carry with us, but there were many interesting things I want to buy when I return someday,” said Ardemis with a laugh. “Have you seen Ki'rana?”

  It was Ardemis’ turn to be startled, as someone came up behind him and placed their hand on his shoulder.

  “Hello!” said Ki'rana.

  Ardemis relaxed and smiled, hoping his daughter had not seen his hand move swiftly to his hidden dagger. Longhorn noted it with wry amusement.

  “Dor Ardemis,” the tribesman said to her with mock formality, “what have you found?”

  To the surprise of the men, Ki'rana showed them wrapped parcels of smoked and salted meat, dried fruit, and packets of rare herbs. She also had powders for Longhorn's pyrotechnics, a vial of inexpensive perfume for herself, and a rolled parchment that she handed to her father.

  Longhorn was about to tease Ki'rana for buying perfume, but the look of awe on Ardemis's face as he unrolled the parchment stopped him cold.

  “Something for your collection, Father,” said the young woman with a smile.

  “This must have cost all the silver we had!” protested Ardemis.

  “No,” she said, “it cost me little more than my patience while I argued the proprietor down.”

  Longhorn carefully moved the parchment in the resara's hands and saw a skillfully drawn map.

  “You must take me there,” said the elder resara to his daughter, and Ki'rana looked into his eyes, questions on her face. “Look how extensive this map is,” he continued. “This is one of the best I've ever seen. Look, here is Paerecis, and Aldirg, and Apracia. Even the Yalventa Forest is marked on here.”

  “And you want to go back to the shop where Ki'rana bought it?” asked Longhorn.

  “Yes,” said the resara quietly, gazing at the map. “He may have more to show us.”

  Ki'rana looked at Longhorn, who shrugged and said, “Lead the way.”

  As the evening approached, daylight fleeing quickly, the three of them stood in front of the mapseller's shop. Longhorn felt like he could breathe again. The crowd was not so dense here. The irrilai took a deep, relaxed breath and looked up at the sign hanging on the post next to the shop. The weathered board depicted a lion rampant with rolled and tied parchments in its claws.

  “I'd like to go in alone,” said Ardemis. “Would you two mind waiting out here for me?”

  Ki'rana and Longhorn shook their heads and waved him on.

  The resara turned, opened the door to the shop, and stepped inside.

  The shop was not well lit, but a few small lamps did dispel some of the shadow. In the center of the room, a large table was blanketed with unrolled maps, the corners of each map weighted by a variety of different sizes and shapes of candlestick holders. In a couple of spots, wax had dripped directly onto the parchment. Around the room were shelves laden with hundreds of rolls, large and small, long and short. All were tied, and most were tagged to indicate what they were.

  A large crow in a cage gave a cry of warning to the shopkeeper. In moments, the man was there, appearing from a connecting room, a quill pen in his hand. He was large but short and fat, with a brown and gray beard, and eyes that squinted like he'd been reading for hours.

  Ardemis smiled and held out Ki'rana's map. “I cannot accept this, old friend.”

  The shopkeeper looked shocked and tried to object. Finally, he spluttered, “What? What do you mean you can't accept it?”

  The resara chuckled. “Khartos, you take amazing risks for someone who loves fine maps. How could you be so sure Ki'rana was my daughter?”

  It was Khartos's turn to smile. “Who else could argue like you but your daughter? But I have my ways. What are you doing in Paerecis? And who is the irrilai with you?” Before Ardemis could express surprise, the shopkeeper said, “By the way, please keep the map. I could never repay you for what you've done for me.”

  Ardemis was speechless for a few moments. “We're looking for some men who may be in danger. They're not in Paerecis, but we may be pursued, so we hope to lose our pursuit in the city. Can you help us? I'd say more, but I don't want to endanger you.”

  “If you don't say more, what will we have to talk about?” joked Khartos. “Come, come, sit down and have some tea.”

  After giving the crow a few dry kernels of corn he found in one of his pockets, he led Ardemis to a back room.

  Longhorn looked at Ki'rana and allowed himself a luxury he had not enjoyed in many days: admiring her beauty. In the middle of a strange city, pursued by danger, he wanted to hold her close to him, feel her warmth, taste her lips.

  She looked at him and smiled.

  What would she do if I took her in my arms?

  Since the day the irrilai had found them missing at Tura Mezar, Longhorn had no more opportunities to think about how he felt for the young resara. Now, the feelings he had no time to face burst forth inside him. He wanted to hold her, love her, confess how hard it was to serve as protector and guide and agent. He wanted to reveal his self-doubt and his fears. He wanted to share himself with her and learn all he could about how she looked at life.

  But the Swordbearer and the Gauntletbearer had to be found and Raethir Del destroyed. Nothing could be allowed to distract them from their goal.

  So, Longhorn gave Ki'rana a smile and nothing more.

  “You know your father,” he said to her. “How long might we have to wait?”

  Ki'rana was staring down the street. “Maybe an hour before the shopkeeper learns we're out here and invites us in.
I didn't let on to Father, but I knew the man was an old friend of his. Look! Where are those people from?”

  Longhorn turned in the direction she pointed. “The two in the bright colors by the fountain?” he asked over his shoulder. “Those are Farennet Seamerchants.”

  As the irrilai watched the Farennets talking, he began describing unusual Farennet courtship rituals. Longhorn found his topic so fascinating it was several minutes before he turned and found Ki'rana gone.

  He knew, immediately, she was in danger.

  Desperately, Longhorn looked for her in every direction. He opened the door to the shop, but Ki'rana wasn't there. Outside the shop, it was getting dark already. Shortly before, when they had arrived, the broad streets in this part were not so busy. Now, they were beginning to fill with large numbers of people. Everyone seemed to be moving in the same direction, the irrilai noted, around the corner from the shop. He searched for some sign of people going the opposite way and saw none. Whoever had abducted her had to be moving with the flow. Longhorn merged with the crowds and began to trot, dodging people where he could, gently shoving them aside when he could not.

  The masses of people flowed like a stream full of spawning fish. Other groups from other streets merged with them, and the flow slowed, forcing Longhorn to slow with them. He continued to search the crowds but saw nothing. The shops and buildings in this quarter were wall to wall with one another. There were no alleys in which they could hide her.

  Where are all these people going?

  Longhorn moved next to the buildings where his progress was less impeded. Like a snake, he slipped through, panic rising steadily, doing his best to not imagine failure. The crowds were tumultuous, but he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Ki'rana!”

  Somewhere distant, he imagined he heard an answering scream.

  Darkness settled with menace as storm clouds scuttled overhead.

  The crowd turned one last street corner and stopped before a raised platform, ten feet wide and twenty feet long. Wanting a better look, Longhorn wormed his way to one end of the platform. Just behind the platform was a shabby, dirty building, and just behind that was a poor excuse of a road.