by Ashley Capes
Harstas was watching, arms folded where he stood in the middle of the Steelhawks, his own guide watching from a short distance away. The thin man appeared weary – doubtless they’d all pushed hard to intercept Karlaf’s raft.
But it was Dimaya that caught his eye – the man stared at Elina. His expression was dull, almost bored, but he continued to track her every move, gaze unbroken when someone passed before him.
Harstas had obviously spoken with the man.
“Not a chance, friend,” Never breathed.
Elina knelt beside him, holding the flask. “Never?”
“Watch out for Dimaya. The one with the crooked nose.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said.
He squinted. Was her jaw clenched when she spoke?
Harstas waved a hand. “Break to eat.”
Sighs of relief echoed around the path. Members of the Steelhawks walked in less armour than customary, but it was a heavy load nonetheless. And they’d been chasing Never for a long time now. Hopefully it would take a toll sooner rather than later. If Karlaf had been correct, Sarann was now two or more days away, at which point the bluff would be played out.
He’d have to come up with something in a hurry.
Too soon and he was shivering along in step once more, separated from Elina, Luis and Karlaf. No way to plan together.
Which left the environment.
If he could stumble in such a way as to scratch himself, he’d have blood – Gods, gouging his own hands with a fingernail would do the trick, but it still didn’t let blood free from any of his captors.
By nightfall sweat poured from him again.
Tied to a tree at the edge of the camp, water and a few slivers of dried meat was all he was afforded. He barely kept it down. His companions were similarly restrained, always within eye-line of the Vadiya. The only time no-one watched was during a group chant, where Harstas led them in an oath swearing allegiance to the tenants of the Vadiya God. Never had not seen the full oath before. It seemed quite long; littered with redundancies.
Achieving eye-contact with Luis was no achievement. The man raised his eyebrows but Never shook his head.
No. No ideas.
The chant went on. While no-one shouted, in the absence of other sound – it filled the night. Never slumped against the bark.
A voice spoke quietly from behind the tree. “Hardly a musical tribute to the old rascal, is it? Sounds rather repetitive. Though, perhaps it is fitting – he’s believed to be rather militant.” Never turned his head slowly but even had it been light, he wouldn’t have been able to locate the owner, too constricting were his bindings. The voice was deep, sounding amused.
“Who are you?”
“The Watcher in the Wood. Some call me the Bleak Man, though I find that uncharitable.”
Never frowned at the shadows. The voice seemed close enough to touch, if only he were able to reach out. The Bleak Man? Watcher in the Wood. Was that who had been following them? The names were those from a child’s ghost story – the kind parents used to frighten their children from wandering in the forest. “What does that mean? Were you following us?”
“I am called so because I tend to the dead within the forest. But that is just one part of my role here.” The voice paused. “They are nearing the end of the ritual. Attend to me, Amouni. Let us strike a bargain.”
Hearing that name again... did it feel familiar or did he only want it to be true? “You think I am Amouni?”
“Of course. Your heritage whispers in the leaves, Never. Quickly. I offer freedom for you and your companions.”
“I can offer you nothing, trapped as I am.”
“For now your word is enough.”
The chanting came to a halt and Harstas stood. Never exhaled. There was no time left – he’d have to decide or lose the opportunity. Yet what would his side of the bargain entail?
“You have it,” Never whispered.
The Bleak Man did not answer but there was the faintest hiss of something passing through leaves. And then the Steelhawks were spreading their bedrolls and posting sentry – a pair. No doubt Harstas’ guide had explained the danger posed by the Bakar.
Never glanced to each of his companions and tried to send a message with his eyes. Be ready. He didn’t know when, or how, or whether the so-called Bleak Man would act. Sooner the better.
Only Luis seemed to understand, giving a slight nod.
And now to wait.
Chapter 12.
No rescue.
Dusk had spread its warm glow across the white birch and the green undergrowth that had grown progressively denser. Some of the blade-like plants grew to knee-height and the path was dotted with weeds. Many were flowering – little pink blossoms that were trampled as the Steelhawks drove toward a stone building in the near distance.
It had the look of an outpost. Large but long-since deserted. It stood open to the elements, its doorway and windows gaping. There was no roof except the forest canopy above. Birds had made nests in the corners, now abandoned. Shrubs grew around and within, while moss crept across the stone, as if the building were unshaven.
Never continued to scan the trees but there was no hint of any men, bleak or otherwise. He followed Elina, whose guard was Dimaya. The man had continued to stare at her with his flat expression, only now he toyed with a knife as he walked.
Bastard.
“We camp here,” Harstas announced, then looked to his guide. The man, Lidreas, was pacing. He eventually crouched by the corner of the room. “Unless our guide has concerns he would like to share?”
Lidreas stood, pushing his lank hair back from his eyes. “None, Commander.”
“Something caught your eye, yes?”
“Only old markings – I thought they might be left by other travellers.”
“And?”
“I cannot read them.” He hung his head a moment. “I apologise.”
Harstas gave a small shrug. “Karlaf – your turn.”
Someone shoved the old guide forward. He glared at them but stomped over to the marks, which from Never’s position seemed to be random scratching between the weeds. Karlaf reached out, tracing imaginary lines above the markings on the stone.
He turned, speaking in Haniker. Never’s own Haniker was rusty but he followed enough. “Just two names and a date.”
Harstas sighed and spoke in his own tongue. “In Vadiya, or at least Marlosi, please.”
Karlaf glanced at Lidreas, who translated for the older guide. Was there a slight moment of hesitation from the man?
Harstas did not appear to notice. The commander nodded then issued orders for a fire to be prepared. Never caught Karlaf’s eye as he passed. The man’s expression was one of concern. What did the markings really indicate?
At a shouted command from Harstas, Never was taken outside. As they pushed him through the doorway he glanced over his shoulder. Elina was glaring at Dimaya, who stood across from her, his expression dull as ever, but his gaze directed on her.
Harstas stood in the trail, facing the direction of Sarann.
“You could really work on your tone when calling for me, you know,” Never said. “You’re beginning to nag.”
“Truly?” The man did not continue.
Never waited. Whatever the commander wanted, Harstas would have to say soon enough. Even his guard soon shifted his feet.
“Ketr, you may leave us.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“How intimate,” Never said. “And you even arranged a sunset for this moment.”
Harstas spun, backhanding Never.
White lights exploded. Never stumbled back. Blood began to trickle from his nose as he blinked. The taste of iron graced his lips. The Vadiya did not raise his voice. “Would you like to see if you can operate as an effective guide without a tongue?”
Maybe he’d pushed the man too far after all. Good.
But he didn’t answer.
“Better. Let’s introduce a new
method of communication. You speak when given my permission, as befitting a jenaek,” the man said, using the Vadiya word to indicate a foreigner. A more accurate translation was probably ‘without-family’ and the way he said it was clear – jenaek was meant as an insult. Never ground his teeth but did not respond. “If you do not, I begin removing fingers from Luis’ hand. Of course, if I’m really disappointed with you I will turn Elina over to Dimaya. I understand that before he became a soldier of God he was curious about the insides of people. Still is, I believe – if seeing what he tends to do to Marlosi farmers is any indication.”
Never made a fist. If anyone needed to be opened up it was Dimaya – so the contents could be burnt to ash.
“Now. I will ask you a question. I expect an answer.” Harstas paused. “The Moor-Sickness. How serious has it become?”
“I can’t say for certain. But I don’t believe I would survive the trip back to the Amber Isle without a cure.” At times, even when he was in the throes of unbearable chills, his blood seemed to boil in his veins. If he’d been able, he might have checked his chest, to see if the blood-tattoo had returned. Sweat dampened his temple more often than not. Another bout of chills would almost be welcome.
“Then you will receive the Red Clove once you have located the key in the Sarann ruins, no sooner. That is clear?”
Bastard. “Yes.”
“Why here, Never – why in Sarann? It is a distant place for a key to a cavern off the coast of Marlosi.”
“There were ancient Hanik runes within, describing a long journey from a ‘green haven’ and mentioning the ‘protecting of wealth from those who hunted them’. I believe those people created the place then returned home – after all, they were once great sailors, why wouldn’t they? Perhaps they meant to one day return to the Isle and collect their bounty – I cannot imagine they could wish to stay on such a barren place for any real length of time.”
“Go on.”
“The key was then hidden to keep it safe – and Sarann was once the centre of Hanik civilisation. The ‘green haven’. Karlaf agrees with me, though it’s a welcome coincidence that one of the places the Red Clove was last sighted was near Sarann. The Clove is also found elsewhere in the White Wood.”
“And within the city you will head for the temple? The palace? Both are buried, yes?”
“I am prepared to dig.”
He folded his arms. “A slim hope, no? And with no such tools? And so little time.”
“Many of our supplies were lost in the swamp,” Never said. “For the Sea King’s Jewels it is hope enough. Especially if I have a cure to work for.”
“We shall see.” He smiled, resting both hands on his hilts. “Very bold of you to cross the swamp. Lidreas was not willing to follow, not even under the pain of death. But he took us on quite a merry chase to meet you on the other side. One of my men was lost.”
Never offered no answer. He waited for a direct question.
“I am holding you accountable for his death.”
Still he waited.
“And for every death thereafter until I am on the Isle, holding the Sea King’s Jewels. And for the death of my men during your little escape back in Isacina. My men, Never. Members of the Boar Family among them – each still waits for vengeance.” Harstas paused. “Yet, should you do your job as guide, I may spare your life and any of your companions that survive. God practises mercy, so may I. Unless you fail me.”
The light had faded but it was not yet dark; it remained bright enough to see the hate glittering in the man’s eyes.
“Return to the outpost.”
Never turned back into the ruin. The Steelhawks had spread around the room, one was working on a fire and others were speaking together. One man stood alone, eyes closed but mouth moving, perhaps in a prayer. Dimaya continued to gaze upon Elina but for the moment, Karlaf and Luis sat with her. Never moved toward them but was intercepted by one of the Steelhawks.
Karlaf had time to mouth a single word – ‘Bakar’ – after which he glanced at the markings on the stone floor.
A warning then?
Never took a seat against the wall in the failing light. He had to act. No more waiting. He flexed his fingers as best he could. The rope had long since chafed. Even if he could reach a weapon, would his hands be able to grip it?
A scream rose from the forest. A wordless cry for help. A woman’s voice.
Never stood. Half those in the room had risen and all eyes were on the doorway.
And then a child’s voice joined the cries for help – the words distinct. The boy was afraid. He’d grown lost and the dark was scary. Half the guards had already taken a step toward the doorway – even Dimaya looked away from Elina.
The child spoke Vadiyem.
Harstas appeared. He pointed at Lidreas and one of the Steelhawks. “With me.”
That left one guard for every prisoner.
Never exchanged a glance with Elina; she’d understood. The guards conferred. They argued, one waving his arms. Another shook his head, snapping that Harstas would skin them alive if they left their posts. Yet he was shouted down and two more soldiers left the room. Two remained, blades drawn.
“No move,” one said, speaking heavily accented Marlosi.
The woman and the child cried on. Were they searching for one another? Both now called in Vadiyem, although neither seemed able to hear the other. Time passed slowly, with the urgency of the cries rising. Never exhaled – he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.
The guards were breathing hard, glancing into the darkening forest often.
Never looked to Luis; it might be possible to rush the guards. After all, four against two were favourable odds. Yet the blades remained a problem.
The woman’s voice lifted to a screech and the taller of the guards flinched. “That was Dashala.”
“What?”
“It’s her; I can tell.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s just a woman.”
“No. It’s my Dashala. She needs me.”
“She’s back home. That’s someone else out there. Listen.”
The guard shook his head then shoved his way from the outpost. “She’s in pain,” he cried.
The final member of the Steelhawks faced his four prisoners, switching his sword from hand to hand. He spread his legs into a wide stance. “You might break free but at least one of you will die by my sword.” He pointed. “The rest of you will be hunted down.”
Never strode forward. “You cannot kill me. Harstas needs me.”
The guard growled. Never charged and the man hesitated – it was enough. Never lashed out with an elbow, striking the man’s chin. He fell to the ground with a crash and Never kicked the man in the face.
The fellow did not rise.
Never knelt by the blade, scooping it up. Maybe his hands weren’t so useless. “Here.” Luis appeared beside him, holding out bound hands. Never sliced through the ropes, then Luis did the same. Within moments, everyone was free.
“What’s happening?” Luis asked, eyes wide.
“I don’t know. I hope it means we’re being rescued,” he said.
Karlaf frowned. “No, lad. It’s the Bakar.”
“What?”
“The spirits – they are crying in memory of their lives. I cannot make out the words, they are too old.”
Never opened his mouth to contradict the guide and yet... were there truly Hanik words within the cries? Had he only imagined the Vadiyem language? But it was enough to confuse the Steelhawks.
“Whoever it is we have to leave,” Elina said. She dashed to the corner of the room where the packs had been placed, retrieving her bow and quiver. She tossed Luis his spear and then took her own pack and hoisted it onto a shoulder. Karlaf followed and once Never was armed and carrying his own pack, they slipped from the outpost and into the deepening shadows.
A cry from one of the Steelhawks followed them.
“This way,” Never shouted. He led them a
long the path, flashing through patches of dull orange light and then into the undergrowth and a small stand that lined the path. The faces of his companions were softened at the edges as darkness grew. Or was it the sickness? “We can ambush them,” he said, breathing hard. “We just need a vantage point. Like these trees.”
“You up to this?” Karlaf asked.
He nodded. “Just have to catch my breath.”
“We should spread across the road,” Luis suggested. “Attack from both sides when they pass.”
Never nodded. “Stay with me, I want your reach. Elina, take Karlaf across the way.”
The screams had not halted but the cries of the Steelhawks co-ordinating their search had joined those of woman and child. Elina and Karlaf lay in the undergrowth and Never rubbed more feeling back into his hands before drawing two knives and blinking away sweat. Luis held his spear ready.
Footsteps thundered down the road but they soon came to a halt with twin thuds.
Never peered around the tree.
A figure stood outlined against the last of the sunset where it strained through grey trunks. The figure paused then slipped into the trees, slender and swift. No footsteps, not even the undergrowth had heralded its departure. As it moved, there had been a hint of pale claws, soft with a wavering flame.
Bakar.
Chapter 13.
“Did you see that? The Bakar?” Never asked, a blade raised. He started a slow half-circle, straining his ears as he did, yet there was naught but shadows and screams from the woman and child. Still their voices rose in the evening, echoing between the pale tree trunks.
Luis shook his head.
“It made no sound when it killed – it simply appeared and...”
Two silent figures stood in the undergrowth, directly behind Luis. “Run!” Never hauled his friend aside and dived at them.
The creatures spread their slender arms, claws glowing with pale fire. Never swung his knives but neither connected. Instead, he crashed into the cold grass. The creatures loomed over him, branches of the trees visible through their limbs and shifting faces – sometimes human, sometimes furred, with elongated jaws.