Along the western side of the cliffs were little grassy ledges where sheep had been perched. The eastern side of the mountains had been carved into terraced farmland. The Twofin people had made the best of their confined terrain.
The wall at the north end was just as large as the one at the south, which surprised him. Surely the Indregai did not raid this far to the west, and the Durdric did not form armies. A wall this high and thick in the middle of nowhere had to be a matter of prestige, didn’t it?
The guards at the Marsh Gate were reluctant to let him through before sunrise, but Tejohn could tell their hearts weren’t in it. A Twofin scout blundered sleepily from the barracks to give his advice about traveling through the wilderness, but there was little in it that Tejohn had not already planned to do.
The guards opened the little gate and escorted him out with a bow. The scout said there had been unusual activity among the rocks for many days and asked to accompany him. Tejohn needed only delay long enough for the man to fetch his kit and quiver from the holdfast, but Tejohn refused. The more he delayed, the more likely the council would awaken and try to stop him. He also couldn’t help but think of Reglis Singalan and Beacon Javien Biliannish, both taken from The Way because of him and his quest. “You’re needed here,” he said. “Do not follow or try to catch up. I command it.” He stepped through the door, then turned back. “Will I be able to see the tower at Tempest Pass when the day comes?”
“If the weather’s clear, my tyr,” the scout said. “And it usually is. It’s still farther than it seems.”
Tejohn nodded to him, then turned to Totewater. She had come to the very edge of the little Marsh Gate door but did not dare step through. “You know what to do.” She nodded.
He turned his back on them and walked northward. The little door thunked shut behind him, and he could hear bars sliding into place.
I have condemned myself to death. The loose stone and dirt crunched under his boots as he made his way down the slope by starlight. He was heading almost due north, and if he was correct, he would have to find a path that would take him westward to the farthest edge of the Sweeps where he could turn northwest toward the tower.
It felt good to be alone. He rested his spear on his shoulder, hiked his shield up high, and walked out into the wind and darkness. The odd smell of the Sweeps wind--that vinegary tang--was very strong here, and it was a bit bracing. Another realm entirely. It was an odd, intoxicating thought.
No doubt the Durdric had lookouts stationed near the gate, and he was being observed even as he descended. His pack protected his back and the shield his left; it was unlikely an arrow would come to him out of the swamps. To the right were more terraced patches of garden, some quite large. All looked abandoned. Surely none of the Twofin people would shoot him. Still, he walked forward as if this was a final test of his honor and his life.
Grateful am I to be permitted to travel The Way.
The starlight was bright enough that he could see narrow trails running off the main pass up into the western side of the mountains. On two of them he could have sworn he saw rough stairs. These he bypassed, assuming they would be guarded. Farther he went, glancing back only once to see the distant torchlight of the Marsh Gate behind him. The ground became less stony, more earthen. Then, he stepped into a puddle of chilly water.
Even with the wind, the splash he made sounded loud in the darkness. Immediately, the flat land ahead of him lit up with nearly three dozen pairs of glowing eyes.
They were low to the ground, all of them, no higher than a house cat’s eyes would be. The closest was perhaps forty paces, the farthest harder to determine, and Tejohn had little doubt what they were.
Alligaunts. So many, though? And all crouching so close to the Marsh Gate? He backed away from them, point low. Surely they weren’t expecting prey. A herd of boq or a family of wild goats, maybe?
Tejohn had an unhappy suspicion that they were waiting for him.
It was still too dark to see them clearly, but their backs were long and narrow, and so were their heads. Their skin was ridged and thorny, somewhat like the backs of the blue grunts, but they had no hair on them at all. They were slick, wet, gleaming things, their heavy, muscular legs holding them very low to the ground. Only after he’d noticed them did they begin to lift their tails straight into the air, once again reminding him of cats in the way they waved and curled them.
Fire and Fury, there was a sense of palpable menace from them.
No matter. A glance to the right showed that the first faint traces of dawn had appeared at the far end of the Sweeps; he turned his back on it, hopping over a few low rocks toward a narrow stony path barely six feet above the mud. It wasn’t the path he would have chosen, but it had apparently chosen him. Tejohn followed the trail carefully, holding his shield high on the left in case a Durdric archer with a flint arrow lurked above, and holding his spear high on the right in case an alligaunt lay crouched between the rocks.
But there were none. The alligaunts never followed him, and no Durdric arrows struck his shield. As the daylight came up, he realized he was quite alone on the side of the mountain. After a short time, he climbed to a path that was slightly higher on the hillside. It was not because he wanted to be away from the muddy swamps below--in truth, the alligaunts seemed to have vanished--but because that higher path offered more concealment from watchful eyes above.
Tejohn traveled the whole day in silence, stopping for water only once. He moved carefully among the rocks, determined not to accidentally kick loose stones into a crevice or expose his position unknowingly to lookouts above.
It was going to be a long trip. The tower at Tempest Pass was indeed visible, pink granite against the charcoal gray mountain slopes, although he couldn’t see the pass. However, it was almost directly across the lake; it may have been farther than it looked, but Tejohn thought it looked far enough.
Ahead, the slopes curved around the westernmost edge of the Sweeps. If the sorcerer-kings of ancient times had truly dug out the Sweeps valley as a long trench, this was where they started. Tejohn needed only traverse the inside rim, keeping clear of the beasts below and the Holy Sons above.
However, as much as he crept and watched and crept again, he did not once spot a Durdric raider or alligaunt moving on the mountainside. He did have to hide for part of the afternoon when a team of spears and bows bearing the Twofin symbol blundered by on one of the higher trails, calling his name. For whatever reason, the council wanted him to have help. Or they wanted to bring him back at spearpoint.
He hid and kept still. Eventually, they turned back east toward the pass. He hoped he was rid of them.
Midway through the next day, he was suddenly struck by the smell of old blood and rotting flesh. Very quickly, he came to a flattened space on the side of the mountain slope. There were little mud houses here, along with okshim carts, rice barrels, and wooden swords for children.
There were bodies, too. Tejohn went on guard immediately, scanning the area for any signs of danger. There were none. The bodies were at least a few days old, but there few crows that had gathered were silent as he approached. Strange.
Tejohn sneaked forward, approaching the nearest corpse. It was an old woman, a broken pail clutched in her hand. She hadn’t simply been struck down; she had been killed and pulled apart as if by hooks.
The Durdric fought with hooked weapons, but he’d never seen evidence that they did anything like this. This was simple mutilation.
The pail appeared to have been struck by an ax, as if she’d raised it to defend herself. There was a string of seashells around her wrist.
A little farther up the slope was another body, this time of a young man with a broken club beside him. He had not been flensed like the woman had been; lying facedown in the dirt, his neck was gone. It hadn’t been severed. It had been removed from the tops of his shoulder and the base of his skull and was simply nowhere to be seen.
What sort of weapon was this? Tejohn s
tood in the middle of the muddy path, looking all around for some sign of who could have killed this way.
The dirt slope ran all the way down to the marsh grounds below. After a moment, he could make out an alligaunt lurking at the water’s edge, watching. There was, as far as he could tell, no reason the beasts would not come up the slope to feast upon the bodies, but they hadn’t. Were they loath to leave the water, or was something else keeping them at bay?
If there was one thing he was sure of, the old woman and the young man had not been killed by grunts. They took huge ragged bites from their prey. These people looked like they had been struck by sharp-edged weapons.
A small voice urged him to search the houses for supplies, but he didn’t dare linger. Everything about this seemed wrong, from the mysterious way the people had been killed to the lack of scavengers. He drank from and refilled a water skin at a basin designed to capture the flow of a tiny waterfall, then struck out further for the west.
It wasn’t until the next day that he saw the creature that had killed those Durdric villagers.
Chapter 9
It was midday when they passed over the final rise and saw Goldgrass Hill stretched out below them. Cazia couldn’t help it; she gasped.
The grass was not gold or even slightly yellow; it was the most vibrant green she’d ever seen in her life. Small white cottages dotted the landscape, with little garden plots and lush lawns between them.
The road sloped away from the caravan, crossed an arching stone bridge, then went straight up what must have been Goldgrass Hill proper. It was a long, gentle slope that seemed to go on and on, passing through the gates of a white-painted lumber wall, then into the city itself. Above the wall, the buildings were somewhat larger and closer together but still had a great deal of greenery between.
At the top of the hill was another white wall, with a few towers looming over the top. Cazia also thought she saw high-peaked roofs like the one Ivy lived in inside Peradain.
Great Way, Peradain seemed so long ago.
Ivy stepped up beside her. “Well?”
“It’s beautiful, little sister. Very beautiful.”
The little princess was extraordinarily pleased. “It is true. Peradain was beautiful, too, in the way, but Goldgrass Hill is the most lovely city in all of Kal-Maddum. Oh, and the grass will not turn gold until the autumn.”
“Noted,” Cazia said, and they laughed together. “Why is everything painted white?”
“For this,” Ivy answered, staring out at the buildings below them. “So, a few things to remember. Try to--”
At that moment, four deep baritones began call out a long, sustained note. They’re doing it wrong was her first thought, because they sang aw instead of ah, as she had been taught. Then others joined in, making a chord. Finally, the song began. It was in Ergoll--Cazia was learning to tell the difference between it and Toal--and the melody was simple, joyful, and a little triumphant. Wrong for me but not for them. Cazia couldn’t help but smile wider.
“Our homecoming song,” Ivy said. “I will have to join in, so I will be quick, okay? First, try to stay on the paths. It is not a capital crime to walk across someone else’s green, but it is considered awfully rude. People put as much pride in the grass as they do the gardens. Second, you are a guest, so you will not be expected to take part in contests of wit. In fact, do not try. It is a complicated game and you do not know half the rules. All you need to remember is to never show that you have taken offense to anything anyone says, even me. Third, it is considered slightly rude to talk about the possessions of someone who is not there. Talk about what I have, and what you have, but not what he or she has.”
“Is that why you talk that way?” Cazia said without thinking. “So-and-so and the wife instead of So-and-so and his wife?”
Ivy looked abashed for a moment. “It is easy to cause offense to an Ergoll when speaking Peradaini. Finally, before you meet my mother and father, you and Kinz are going to be taken somewhere private so you can be bathed and given fresh clothes. I hope you will not mind--”
“Oh, I would love a bath! Song knows, I need one.”
“Oh, good! Kinz was afraid it would make her sick or something.” Belterzhimi approached and held out his hand. Ivy took it. “I will see you inside the villa!” The Warden helped her onto the front of the cart, then climbed up beside her. They stood, side by side, and joined in the song with the others. Immediately, the voices seemed to become three times louder.
It was a joyous procession. Cazia had never seen so many happy faces or lifted spirits. Not at a wedding, not at a healthy childbirth, never. Her whole body flushed with the pleasure of seeing merchants united with families, of soldiers stepping out of the caravan to embrace their dogs, of children waiting patiently at garden gates for a familiar face, and of countless people weeping and waving at Ivy--at Princess Vilavivianna, who waved back at everyone, smiling so broadly that she could barely keep up the song.
They sang all the way down the road, across the bridge, and up the hill. Everyone did, except for a few squint-faced grumps that Cazia wanted to pinch. There were always a few.
People lined up along the main road or clustered at the edges of the crossroads, craning to see Ivy as she passed. By the time they reached the top of the hill, it seemed that the whole town was singing.
The gates to the compound at the top--what Ivy had called the villa--had been thrown open. Dozens of people stood atop the walls and in the entrance, and the streets became so crowded that Cazia began to fall back, losing sight of the cart and the princess. As she passed through the thick, lumber walls, she heard someone call her name.
It was Kinz. Goherzma, Belterzhimi’s servant--actually, he was the warden’s “man,” which seemed to be pretty much the same thing--had pulled her aside, and now they beckoned to Cazia.
The two girls were led along the wall to a small outer building. It, too, was painted white, although the wood grain had begun to show through. Kinz and Cazia were handed off to a group of stern older women in short tunics. The girls were taken to a large stone basin with a tiny fire beneath. The water inside was delightfully hot.
The stern women began to scrub at the girl’s backs with rough cloths almost immediately, but Cazia didn’t ask them to stop. It occurred to her that they might not speak Peradaini, and maybe would push her under the water if they heard.
It was Kinz who asked them to stop, in Toal. They seemed disappointed, but they became much gentler. They also became more resentful at the extra time the chore would require. Cazia kept her things in sight the whole time.
It was hours before Ivy and her parents were ready to meet Kinz and Cazia, and that was just fine by them. Kinz took to a soak in a hot tub immediately, and the girls were almost disappointed when they were summoned.
“I am not made comfortable in fine white clothes,” Kinz said. They’d been offered linen robes with deep pockets, and Cazia immediately put the three crystals Kelvijinian had given her into them.
“I know what you mean,” Cazia said. “I hope we won’t be expected to eat dinner in them.”
They were. Kinz and Cazia were brought before Alisimbo and Silvisbemuntu of Goldgrass Hill, king and queen of the Ergoll people. After an initial show of respect, they were seated on cushions on the floor before an empty table. The king and queen were both very like the princess--pale, yellow-haired, and lean. Unlike the princess, they looked at Cazia the way a falcon looks at a mouse.
But they were friendly, even though it seemed to take an effort. Their Peradaini was quite good, although not as good as Ivy’s. They were grateful to have their daughter back, and were considering making honored guests of Cazia and Kinz.
Considering? Cazia wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“We must ask,” Alisimbo said, “why you did not send Vilavivianna to us with the Ozzhuacks. Why did you delay?”
“That was her choice,” Cazia answered.
“Her choice?” Silvisbemuntu said. “She is a
child.”
“She’s only three years younger than me.” Cazia suddenly realized that the king and queen were addressing their questions to Kinz. “There’s something you should understand: Kinz was not with us when that decision was made. She and her brother only joined up with us as we split from the Ozzhuacks. At that time, Ivy had already committed to going with me.”
The king’s friendly expression faltered. “My daughter is of the royal blood of the Ergoll people. Please show the respect she deserves by using her proper name.”
She invited me to call her that, Cazia almost said.
Silvisbemuntu glanced at her husband in admonishment. “Our daughter has told us of those lost when Peradain fell, but she will not tell us what happened afterward. She says we must hear the story from you. That you asked this of her.”
Alisimbo’s expression became icy. “What hold do you have over our daughter that you can make demands of her?”
“Friendship,” Cazia answered. They didn’t like that answer. “The truth is, the three of us talked this over for many long evenings on our trip south. How could we tell this story without being mocked as liars? I promise you, you will find it hard to believe, and the Toal already stole the artifacts we brought to prove our tale. So Ivy said… I’m sorry, Princess Vilavivianna said we should strike our deal first, then tell the story.”
“What will we be bargaining for?” the queen asked. The good humor was slowly leaving her expression, too.
Cazia sighed. There was no way to put this gently, so she just said it. “Your flying cart. I need it.”
The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way Page 11