“No,” he said, his face almost bloodless, “you don’t have the training to do the things that I have done. The terrible--”
“Shh.” I feared I would never see another friendly face. “Welcome to the Freewell holdfast, where you will be made welcome and treated with respect. Whatever happened before is in the past. It’s forgotten, as if you have been taken by The Blessing and then cured.”
“It’s a great gift,” he said. “It’s a great gift to be allowed to start over after….to do good again.”
The roar of a grunt echoed from out of the forest, and everyone fell silent. The Watch Commander was suddenly beside her.
“The walls are well guarded,” her bodyguard translated. “The fletchers have spent most of the night fashioning arrows.”
“Thank you.” To Doctor Twofin, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Not in the slightest,” he answered. “Tyr Treygar tells me that you have had quite an adventure.”
“I’ll tell you about it this evening,” she said, “as long as you promise to believe everything I say. Right now, though, we need those sleepstones. People are suffering. In fact, I have a brave little girl in the holdfast who might not last the day without your help.”
Chapter 31
Three days after Tejohn spoke to her, Cazia Freewell’s cart appeared in the skies above Saltstone, and it was not a moment too soon. From the time servants and soldiers had hauled away the granite blocks pinning the holdfast doors shut, it had been one headache after another. Doctor Twofin had woken in one of the Twofin dungeons, seemingly cured of his madness, but the merchants and holdfast bureaucrats insisted he be tried and hanged.
Never mind that he was the only medical scholar in the world, as far as they knew. Never mind that nothing he had done had truly been his fault—and how painful it was for the man who slew Doctor Rexler to make that argument. They wanted blood. Tejohn wouldn’t allow it.
Unfortunately, as the mood turned against him, it also turned against Lowtower, Bluepetal, and Redegg, the three men he’d left in charge. Planning meetings were becoming contentious, with a growing faction of locals determined to remain inside their walls, where they felt safe. There was also a push to make servants of any outsiders who were cured within the walls.
Tejohn alienated them even more when he promised to hang anyone who tried to implement that law.
Luckily, the Evening Person they’d retrieved from the Marsh Gate had more or less taken his side. When he’d been brought into the hall, he’d haughtily informed the merchants that he would make all their lands go fallow before he let himself be pressed into servitude. Bluepetal had immediately declared it would be immoral to punish a man for what he’d done under the influence of a curse, and the Evening Person confirmed that going hollow was very like The Blessing: both were possession by an outside power.
That had blunted the enthusiasm for the old scholar’s execution among most of the citizens.
So, when rumors spread that some within the holdfast planned to murder the old scholar in his cell, Tejohn had roused him and put him in his cart in the early dawn hours. The time since had been…difficult.
So, it lightened his mood considerably to have his breakfast interrupted by word of an approaching cart. He hurried out into the hall.
The cart floated down and rotated a quarter turn as it touched down. Cazia Freewell was tied into the driver’s spot, and she wore scholar’s robes and armor, just like Lar Italga had worn in Samsit.
Great Way, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
A team of six spears marched toward her, only one of them carrying a kinzchu spear. Tejohn marched down the holdfast steps and intercepted them. “Points high, squad.”
“My tyr,” the sergeant said, “all visitors must be touched.” He held up his kinzchu spear. “It’s Commander Lowtower’s law.”
“I can vouch for this one,” Tejohn said, to their clear discomfort. He led them toward the cart, where Cazia was struggling with the last of the knots in her harness. “Cazia, it’s good to see you again. Have you been bitten since we parted?”
She looked up at him and smiled. Fire and Fury, she looked terrible. “Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I’ve taken a scratch or two, though.”
Tejohn helped her over the rail. “Let me see you. Did they stitch you up like an old curtain?” He almost called the Freewell people barbarians, but of course, they had no sleepstones. He should have realized she would look even worse now than she had in the mirror, before her injuries had taken color.
“My tyr,” the sergeant said sharply, “Commander Lowtower gave specific orders…”
Song knew the man was right. If he started making exceptions to the rules so soon after implementing them, everyone would. “Of course, you’re right, sergeant. Thank you for reminding me.” To Cazia he said, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to take your magic, just this once, but it will give you time to lie on a sleepstone.”
She sighed. “I suppose it’s a sensible precaution, but it’s a waste of time. First, though, let me make you some kinzchu arrowheads.
That startled all of them. She marched through the soldiers toward the holdfast, then began casting a spell. The sergeant looked nervous, but Tejohn laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him.
First, she created a granite block. It was bigger than any scholar stone Tejohn had ever seen before. Her magic really was becoming powerful. Then she cast another spell on it, then she shattered it into a thousand tiny chips.
“There!” She explained that each shard would not be as powerful as the black stones, but they would get the job done. Then she grabbed hold of the kinzchu stone at the end of the sergeant’s spear. The only evidence of its effect was an involuntary shudder.
“How long is your magic gone?”
“A day and a half at least,” she answered.
“Too bad. You seem to be getting stronger.”
“I am.” She touched the stitches in her lip. “Do you really have an empty sleepstone?”
“The Twofin people have been lucky. This way.” He led her into the holdfast toward the medical chambers. “Do you think you could teach that trick to the scholars we have here?”
“With the block? I already taught that spell to Doctor Twofin, and he’s the tutor, not me. I think I proved that with Kinz. When he returns, he should… What?”
“Doctor Twofin isn’t going to be welcome here for a long time. He can never come back.”
She sighed again. “He told me. I wish there was a way to make people see common sense.”
He killed children. It doesn’t have to be his fault. But he couldn’t say that to her. She loved the old scholar too much.
They descended two flights of stairs into the catacomb of the Twofin holdfast. If the girl thought it odd that the sleepstones were so inaccessible, she didn’t give any indication.
They passed through the hearth room where they were greeted by the same servant who had assisted Tejohn when he needed to heal. She examined Cazia’s face by firelight. “There is a bit of red swelling at this end of the cut,” she said, as she studied the girl’s forehead. “It’s good that you came, but these injuries are a few days old. They may leave scars.”
Cazia Freewell smiled. “Good. I’d hate for all of them to be on the inside.”
Three days later at mid day, they walked together through the Marsh Gate into the Sweeps.
Tejohn had assured her that they weren’t going far and he meant it. They walked out of the pass straight toward the water, then angled eastward out of the view of the sentries at the gate. Tejohn wore the same battered armor he’d collected from the Twofin storeroom, but Cazia had ditched her robes and armor for hiking skirts and a jacket. Her only weapons were the mace--newly repaired and improved, he could see--and a quiver of darts from Twofin’s armory.
“The Freewells wanted to send a whole squad of spears with me,” she said, “but they really couldn’t spare them. We didn’t have enough trained soldiers to patrol t
he wall as it is.”
Tejohn couldn’t help but notice that she’d said We instead of They. “Even with militias?”
“They don’t like militias there. Don’t trust them, I guess, because they might cause a coup. Plus, the tradition is that a soldier is set apart from the rest of society, blah blah blah. They don’t let women fight with them, either, except as archers. It’s like they want to be conquered.”
“The Twofins had similar qualms. No matter. You’ll be back among them soon.”
Tejohn supposed he could have requested a dozen spears for this little expedition, too, but like Cazia, he didn’t think the holdfast could spare them. Besides, this was a mission of peace.
They spent the rest of the day talking about governance and planning for the future. The girl was very worried about food and the coming harvest, which she was right to be. Neighboring lands had crops growing untended in the fields, and Cazia wanted an army large enough to harvest it.
To his delight, Tejohn found himself being drilled on tactics. Would it be better to send out squads to deliver harvests to the holdfast, or to simply move the entire populace closer to the farms? How many archers should there be? How many spears to guard the workers? What formations?
They went back and forth about it for a large part of the afternoon. Should they combine the Twofin and Freewell peoples or keep them separate? Move like nomads from holdfast to holdfast, or stick to their homes?
It didn’t take long for them to get close enough to Lake Windmark to smell the marshes, even in the Sweeps winds. Dart in hand, Cazia was clearly uneasy about being so close to the alligaunts’ hunting grounds—the tall, rustling grasses didn’t reassure Tejohn much, either.
Still, when nightfall came, they lit a fire and ate meatbread at the base of an ancient crooked oak. Cazia insisted they should sleep in the branches, and despite his assurances that they would be safe on their first night, they did.
In the darkness, he was sorely tempted to confess his grief over the grunts he had killed, especially those who had not yet transformed. Yes, at the time, he didn’t know there would be a cure, but if he had just let them go--had not given in to his urge to fight and kill--they might have been cured. They might have had lives.
Instead, he kept his silence. As capable as she was, she was still too young to share his burdens, and it would have been unseemly of him to ask.
Besides, he knew what he would say to her if she came to him with a similar confession, and he knew it would be wise. He could tell a friend that they had done their best and should leave it in the past, but could never extend that sort of forgiveness to himself.
In the morning, they found alligaunt tracks and several piles of stones. Just like before.
“They skip some numbers but not others,” Tejohn explained. “At first, I thought it was some sort of message, like Build us a house made of eleven stones, but eventually, I realized the one thing the piles had in common was that they couldn’t be split evenly.”
“Well,” Cazia said, staring down at the arrangement, “you can split five stones into five equal piles, but you can do that with any of them, so maybe it doesn’t count. Hm.”
“After I solved it, they came out of the water and beckoned to me, the way humans would. The way you would call to a friend.”
“And you didn’t go to them?” She was smirking at him.
“I would have, actually, but I’d already climbed aboard the cart with you and your two friends.”
“Oh! I remember that now!”
“It seems to me that we could take their little test again and see what they wanted from us.” She gave him a look. “I swear they looked peaceful. All we have to do is wait to see what they want; we have dry ground behind us if we need to retreat. We must warn them about The Blessing and seek an alliance. You have those translation stones?”
“Right here.” She patted her pocket.
Tejohn sighed. “If my hunch is correct, these creatures will have wisdom at least the equal of our own, if not more. With luck, they will be able to tell us something useful about the grunts--where they came from, maybe, or how they were created. If not, an offer of help against The Blessing might create another alliance.”
She took to it without any prompting, collecting stones to continue the row of piles. She created piles of seventeen, nineteen, twenty-three, twenty-nine, and thirty-one without any of the fumbling or second thoughts he’d gone through. Hmf. He would have liked to see her struggle at least as much as he had, but that was the difference between a scholar and some old soldier, apparently.
“That had better be enough,” she said, walking uphill toward him and wiping the mud from her hands, “because that was boring.”
||It is enough.||
The voice was low and whispering, almost below their ability to hear. Cazia looked around, readying a dart.
“I heard it, too,” Tejohn said. “A voice said it was enough.”
||Come to the water’s edge. Do not fear.||
They looked at each other. The words came out of nowhere, as if the entire world were speaking to them. It was like hearing the words of a god. Now was their chance to flee uphill to the Marsh Gate, but did they dare offend that voice? Tejohn didn’t think they could outrun a spirit.
Cazia turned toward the water. “Well,” she said, “if the horrible disembodied voice tells you not to be afraid...”
“Right.” Together, they walked down toward the tall marshes. Mace tucked into her belt, Cazia held a dart in her hand. Tejohn unslung his shield.
From among the tall grasses, a figure rose up. At first, it seemed to be taller than a man. Then it folded forward….
It was an alligaunt. It stood on its hind legs, then tilted its long, narrow head to look at them.
Tejohn lowered the point of his spear, then saw a second creature stand out of the grasses, then a third, then three more all at once. More and more of the creatures were standing upright until there were at least three dozen. Tejohn put his spearpoint up. They couldn’t fight this many enemies at once, if they truly were enemies. Perhaps he should have brought those Twofin spears after all.
He was close enough to see that their ridged skin was not just greenish black; it was actually covered with swirls of those two colors. They were incredibly intricate, but Tejohn couldn’t bring himself to admire them for long. He kept being distracted by the alligaunt’s jagged teeth.
Last chance to run. But of course, they weren’t going to run. They didn’t come down here to flee from whatever they discovered. The real question was whether these creatures were the source of the voice or its servants.
||One for each.||
The nearest of the alligaunts raised a long-handled tool, and Tejohn repressed his instinctive response to raise his shield and attack, but he held himself still. Not a weapon. The alligaunts leaned forward like wild animals ready to pounce, but they weren’t wild. And the tool was not a weapon; instead of a blade, it ended in a broad wooden bowl. It looked more like a spoon for a baby sea giant than a weapon.
Inside the bowl were two tiny gems. Cazia took one. The alligaunt offering them hissed.
“Yes,” Cazia said immediately, “I can.”
She nodded at the second gem and Tejohn took it. He slung his shield and held it in his hand.
“Good,” the alligaunt facing them said. It handed the tool to one of the creatures behind it. “The other way of speaking is unpleasant for everyone, and it is impossible for the speaker to be known for his words. Do you understand this?” Its eyes were like little black stones.
“We’re familiar with this magic,” Cazia said. “How long can we use it safely?”
The alligaunt bowed its head, exposing a dull iron band around the cap of its skull. It looked a bit like a crown. “As long as you want. You could use it every moment for a thousand years without harm. Now, there is much for your people and mine to discuss.”
“Indeed there is,” Tejohn said. He could recognize that the way t
he alligaunts stood looked bemused and condescending, as though he and Cazia had come to surrender their lives and lands. “We’ve come to warn you about a danger spreading across the land, a transformation curse that affects intelligent creatures of every type. We want to share what we know of the threat to help you protect yourselves and your children.” Also, we need your help.
The alligaunts looked at each other, seemingly in surprise. “This is not the place for the process.” It seemed only one of them was willing or authorized to talk. “Clasp hold of that gem. It is important that you both hold on very tightly. Are you doing that? Very tightly and without letting go?”
Tejohn and Cazia barely had a moment to agree before many lariats were cast at them. The ropes flew so quickly, they barely had time to duck.
Not that it did any good. The lariats seemed to track him like living things, looping over both Tejohn’s wrists and his torso, pinning his upper arms to his sides. Cazia fared no better.
They were both yanked off their feet into the thick marshes. The alligaunts dragged them toward the lake. Tejohn’s spear was torn from his grip and his shield wrenched at his shoulder. He couldn’t see Cazia through the reeds, but he could hear her screaming.
I talked her into this. “Take a—” Breath, he’d meant to say, but they were past the shallow mud and into the water already. His failed warning had prevented him from taking a breath of his own. He shut his mouth as the rank water splashed into the back of his throat, and tried to determine how many moments of life he had left.
His knife. He needed his knife to cut these ropes. He tried to spin and brace his feet against the mud, but the ground suddenly fell away. They had passed into deep water. Tejohn’s shield took too much of the force of the water when he tried to twist his torso; he didn’t have the strength to resist. He forced himself to open his eyes, but the feel of the water against them was so alien, he squeezed them shut again.
It was too much. His wrists were pinned against his chest, his helm squashed down onto his head. He was wearing steel; even if he could somehow get his knife to his hand, cutting the rope would mean he’d sink to the muddy depths while Cazia Freewell was dragged out of his reach.
The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way Page 35