“The Hand needs to pay its debt of blood.”
Flax had not yet released the hilt of his knife.
Argoth said, “Listen, you two, if we are to fight our true enemy, we must put aside such issues—the blood between Eresh and the Hand is nothing compared to that between you and those that devour our souls. Would you stop to chase a horsefly when a ravening lion was at your heels?”
Eresh licked his chapped lips, then stepped away and sheathed his sword. “The next time I draw my sword on this walking goat turd, I will kill him.”
Flax shook his head ruefully and released his hold upon his knife. He put his hand up to placate Eresh. “Argoth speaks wisdom. Let us deal with our common enemy first. After that, you and I can settle our differences.”
“That might be far too late,” said Eresh.
“Commander,” Shim warned, his face iron. Then he turned to Flax. “You will come and state your purpose. And if you’re too beetle-brained to keep your smug arrogance to yourself, then I will loose Eresh. And may the Six have mercy upon you.”
Flax inclined his head, and Shim turned to walk to his chambers. As he did, Flax gave Eresh a level stare, and Eresh gave it right back, his milked eye looking like a horror.
Argoth had learned long ago never to trust someone you didn’t know. And even though Eresh had now confirmed that this Flax was actually a man of the Hand of Mayhan, Argoth was still wary of him. He would wait and see. Action, more than anything else, proved a man. And just because he was a man of the Hand, didn’t mean his goals aligned with Shim’s.
The group followed Shim to his upper chamber. They lit candles, then shuttered and curtained the window that looked out on the court so the conversation could not be overheard. Shim sat behind his mahogany table that shone with a dull luster from the candlelight. The tanned hide of a bear he had speared as a youth was draped over the back of the chair. Behind him on the wall hung the new device of his army. It was in the shape of a shield. The field was half blue, half white, and in the center, was a large sun made of brass. The blue for courage and loyalty. The white for purity. And the sun to represent knowledge and power.
Shim’s fathers had preserved it and kept it hidden. From generation to generation they’d passed it down. One of Shim’s ancestors had been a loreman who had been hunted down by the Divines. But a scion had survived the extermination of that line and kept both the tale and the device.
As they filed into Shim’s chamber, Matiga stood with Argoth. Eresh stood off to the other side, disgust on his face, never taking his one good eye off the blond man. Flax came in last and stood before them.
Argoth said, “I never sent a message to the Hand.”
“But you did send one to Bream of Darkbridge,” Flax said. “The grove I’m in is affiliated with his. Bream himself could not come, but I have his token and a letter.” Flax retrieved a piece of parchment from his pocket along with a plain scarf.
Argoth took both, then walked to the window and pulled the curtain back and unshuttered the window. He examined the seal of the letter in the strong light. It looked like it hadn’t been tampered with. Furthermore, it was Bream’s special seal featuring three horse heads with a line across the bottom. He motioned Matiga over who examined it as well.
“That’s Bream’s,” she said.
Argoth broke the seal and read the note. It simply said, “The bearer returns your token at my behest. We are interested in your proposed venture, but feel reluctance. Convince him.”
Argoth held the scarf up and found the corner. In it was stitched the simple figure of a bear. Matiga pulled out her knife and cut the stitching on the back to reveal the smaller image of a stork.
“This is the token that was sent out,” she said. Then she and Argoth stepped back from the window, shuttered it, and replaced the thick curtain. Argoth handed the letter to Shim and nodded. It all could be faked, but someone would have to be deep in Bream’s counsel to get it all right.
Shim read the note and said, “Reluctance?”
Flax said, “Bream is being watched. He dared not risk come out of hiding. I volunteered to come here and see if this was a trap or an opportunity.”
“And what have you found?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Flax. “With all respect to your efforts, what I see is, well, not an army of dreadmen. Your candidates wear weaves that are poorly made. What’s worse, they’re almost all running dry. And how many lore masters do you have here that can replenish them when they do fail? Half a dozen at the most. There’s no way so few can sustain an army even half the size of this one.”
“You have no idea how many lore masters we have,” said Eresh.
Flax continued, “And even if someone were able and willing to bleed his life away to fill these weeds you call weaves, you don’t have the right ratio of full, seasoned dreadmen to candidates for proper training. Five-to-one is ideal. You have, what, twenty-five or forty to one? So I don’t know. Joining such a”—he searched for the word—“hasty operation might lead to our doom. On the other hand, having a whole hammer of loremen who are intimately versed in blood and Fire might tip the balance in your favor.”
Argoth had to give Flax credit. He’d opened his negotiation strongly. Shim’s army was in desperate need of more loremen.
“I don’t see a hammer,” said Eresh. “I see a single man.”
“If I send word, they will come.”
Matiga folded her arms. “This Kish is bad enough. I do not think we want men of the Hand.”
But if Shim were to succeed, they needed more loremen. Only a handful had come so far. Perhaps they were too wary, or perhaps they were on their way. But weeks mattered. Numbers mattered. And they couldn’t be choosy.
She continued. “The Hand, for all its will to fight the Divines, has never created the opportunity you see here. But even if it had, we wouldn’t allow you to join us.”
“The Order of Hismayas disapproves of some of our methods,” said Flax. “Tell me something new.”
“You have no conception of who your real enemies are,” said Matiga.
“My life has been dedicated to throwing off the yoke of the Divines. I’ve lost brothers, parents, friends. I know whom I fight better than anyone here.”
“No,” said Matiga. “You don’t.”
Flax’s mouth set in annoyance, but he didn’t give voice to it. Or was this the ruse of an expert in these games? All men wore masks, but there were some who never took off the mask. Argoth could not tell which kind of man Flax was.
Matiga said, “You may kill every Divine, but you will still lose the war because the Divines are merely tools, thralls, of far more powerful masters. Kill the Divines, and the masters will simply raise up others in their stead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Humans are ranched like cattle, Handsman. Their souls harvested to feed the creatures that rule over us.”
Flax narrowed his eyes. “Harvested?”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“I would need proof.”
“Why would we lie?”
“Because lying’s useful,” said Flax.
“We are eye-witnesses. We have fought one of the Devourers and prevailed. But you don’t have to trust our testimony alone. We have tangible proofs. And I will tell you this—killing a Divine is an easy thing compared to fighting one of their masters.”
“If these masters do exist, then why don’t we know of them? Why do we never see them?”
“If our cattle knew they were being bred for slaughter, do you think they would feed at our very doorsteps, docile and trusting? The Devourers are not stupid. They raise human overseers to rule over us as Divines, breeding them to be able to wield great powers. And so well have the Divines spun their lies that humans go willingly to their various harvests.”
Flax said, “I would
need to see these evidences. If it’s true, it simply widens the number of our targets.”
Matiga said, “The point that you have lost is that our enemy preys upon us. We will not join them in that evil. And so if any member of the Hand wants to ally themselves with us, they must take an oath to cease to prey upon others for their Fire, and the soul that comes with it. We will not become the very thing we fight against.”
“There is no crime in stealing from an enemy.”
Matiga looked at Shim. She was clearly not impressed with Flax.
“He’s of the Hand,” said Eresh and tapped his forehead. “You’ve got to speak slowly.”
“Commander,” Shim warned.
Argoth stepped in. “Let me paint the vision. We are not here to overthrow the Divines and take their place. We are here to free every willing brother and sister of the human race. And the only way to do that is to teach them to master their own vitalities. Give them power. There is enough power in the people of this land, if freed from the darkness of ignorance, to overthrow those who rule over the Glories forever. We are going to raise a nation of loremen.”
Flax looked around the room. “A nation of the old gods, eh? You’re going to bring everyone out of darkness and put the lore into the hands of thieves and murderers.”
This was an old argument among those who used the lore. Was it best to monopolize the power like the Divines did, or did every man have the right to use or misuse the powers? “It’s already in the hands of thieves and murderers,” said Argoth. “Better our own poison than that of another.”
Flax considered for a moment. “Let’s say that we agree to join your cause. Your army is still too weak to fight Mokad. You will need us. You will need our Fire. That does not come for free.”
Shim waited.
“We’d want land, and paid passage. We’d want our members to fight together. There will be no splitting of our ranks unless we agree to it. And we want a portion of Lumen’s hoard.”
“The weaves in our possession do not belong to any one of us,” said Shim. “Their use is assigned based on need and ability. To be given one is to be given a stewardship, not ownership.”
“Do not split hairs,” said Flax. “Whoever determines need and ability controls the weaves. That’s the same as owning them.”
“No one person controls them,” said Argoth.
Flax shook his head. “You’re making it difficult for me to convince the others in my order to join your cause. They would need to see a clear value.”
“The hope of what we’re doing should be value enough,” said Shim.
“We will share whatever powers we have with those who join us,” said Argoth. “But if you are to join us, you must do so in very deed. There’s more that’s required.”
“More?”
“A gift of Fire,” said Argoth. “To show your intentions.”
“A payment in earnest,” said Eresh. “If you prove yourself, you’ll be repaid. If not, we’ll keep it.”
“I would think such a sacrifice would by itself prove my intentions.”
“Two weeks ago,” said Matiga, “a man showed up at the gates of the fortress, having, like you, answered our call. He was known to us. Powerful, a master, and he was wild. He’d eaten the souls of crocodiles. You couldn’t see the sign upon his body, but there lurked in him a darkness. He came promising to fight with us. He would have been a formidable addition to our ranks. But in not too many days it became apparent he also came thinking he could feed where he pleased.”
“The one hanging from a pole outside the gates of this fortress?”
“No,” Matiga said. “This one we elected not to publicize.”
Flax shrugged. “If it’s Fire you want, Fire we have aplenty.”
“We do not want that which you’ve stolen from others,” said Matiga. “We want your Fire. An Opulence at the very least. This is a personal sacrifice.”
Flax raised his eyebrows. “Are you joking? That’s three years of my life. I’m sorry, but this is foolish. Besides, if I give you of my Fire, I’ll simply replenish it from the stores we already have. Let us not play games.”
“We are not playing games,” said Argoth. “But we do not want to perpetuate the very abominations we seek to fight. What’s been stolen from others is tainted. Your oath, if you join us, requires you give up your stolen Fire to the winds.”
As Argoth spoke these words, his mind ran to Nettle, his son. Stealing Fire was an abomination. And his grief at having practiced that abomination upon his son, even though he’d been a willing victim, curdled his heart. He had stolen Fire from his son to battle the Skir Master. He’d lost the battle and been enthralled. In the process, he’d lost his son. Nettle still lived, but parts of his mind were missing.
Flax shook his head in disbelief.
Argoth had known these requirements would cause many to balk at joining them. They asked applicants to make too large a change. Two potential allies had already refused or said they needed more time to think which amounted to the same thing. He wondered again if these standards were too high. They so desperately needed the Fire this man could bring to the Order. But he thought of Nettle again. He thought of their enemy.
The price wasn’t too high. They had to draw a line. And if it meant their doom, then at least they would die with a clear conscience.
“Goh,” Flax said and shook his head. “You people are mad.”
Argoth knew they’d lost him then. Lost his Fire. Lost the experience of those in his hammer he could have persuaded.
Flax continued, “Only lunatics would dare challenge the powers as you have. I’ve studied you since I arrived on these shores. And I now have heard and seen enough to know that this is not an opportunity, but a trap. A trap set with bait so incredible I’m finding it hard to resist. So, while I cannot make promises for any others of the Hand, I will pledge myself. I will take your ridiculous oath. I will pour out my Days, but only half an Opulence. And then I’ll send back word. And if others join me, then you will provide them passage and lands. And you will assign them ‘stewardships’.”
Argoth couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. Perhaps Shim’s vision was enough for this Flax. Or perhaps Flax had always been willing to join and had just started high in his bargaining. Or maybe it was a bit of both.
“I can accept that,” said Shim. He looked at Argoth and waited for his opinion.
What was there to dispute? Argoth nodded in agreement.
Eresh grunted. “A full Opulence. No less. Because he will turn his back on you.”
Flax said, “Once I set my hand to a tiller, I do not look back.”
“A full Opulence,” Matiga agreed.
Flax gritted his teeth. “A full Opulence with a guaranteed return plus interest.”
Shim looked at Argoth who nodded. “Accepted,” he said. “You’ve made a good choice.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Flax. “I tend to think that the intelligence of any one choice depends on all the choices that follow.”
“So it is,” said Shim. He rose. “Welcome, brother.”
Flax nodded at Eresh. “He’s not really part of this family, is he?”
“Och,” said Eresh, his one good eye hard and cold and disapproving, “I’ve just become your loving uncle.”
Argoth smiled. “You can still back out.”
“And let the Kish have all the glory? I think not. In fact, I want to deliver my part now. Let’s be done with it.”
“This way then,” said Matiga and motioned to where Flax could make his offering.
Sometime later when they were finished, Matiga led a sweating and drawn Flax out of Shim’s chamber.
“May I quarter here in the fortress?” Flax asked.
“Yes,” Shim said. “Matiga will make arrangements.”
He nodded. “I’
ll go gather my things from where I was staying and will return in a few hours.”
Argoth led him out of Shim’s chambers. When they stepped into the sunlit bailey, Flax said, “What I need now is a tankard of strong ale and some oysters.”
“To celebrate?” asked Argoth.
“Gods, no,” said Flax. “I think I’ve just sealed my own doom. I need something to help me forget.”
Argoth smiled. Despite his wariness, Argoth suspected he might end up liking Flax after all. He led him back to his horse and then the outer gate. When Flax was well on his way, he went back to Shim and the others.
When Argoth walked back into Shim’s chambers, Eresh looked at him in disgust and shook his head.
“We know of your reservations,” Argoth said to Eresh. “But he gifted Fire. He passed our tests.”
“And so you just take him into your bosom?”
“No,” said Argoth patiently. “Now we watch him, just as we’re watching all our old friends, including you.”
“Save yourself the trouble,” said Eresh. “Let me rid you of that stinking pus today. We’ll come out an Opulence the richer.”
Shim held his hand up for Eresh to stop. “No more. You have free rein to watch him. If he proves out, you will swallow your anger and welcome him.”
“If he proves out, I’ll be all hugs and kisses,” Eresh said.
9
Redthorn
SUGAR WAS BEYOND exhaustion. She’d run all night and through the morning. She was nearing some kind of breaking. She thought she’d given the Fir-Noy the slip, but they’d raised the hue and cry throughout all the surrounding villages. They’d sent riders downstream. She’d tried to keep to the cover of the trees, but then she’d accidentally run upon a group of woodsmen taking a morning breather, and it had all started up again.
She paused in a wood thick with pines and shadows. The scent of the trees was rich and deep. Above her a breeze swept through the tops of the trees, but the thick carpet of needles upon the ground under her bare feet muffled the sound. Here and there, shafts of light filtered down, dust motes shining, to illuminate the forest floor. A moth flew into a fat shaft of light and then out again.
Curse: The Dark God Book 2 Page 9