“The Undying are sacred!” She protested even as he touched the first of the hides and felt it try to pull away from him. Even dormant, the things understood that he was an enemy.
“Not to me.” The woman flinched at the tone of his words. One of his many hands reached out and gripped the Grakhul’s chin firmly. “Your kind has told countless lies. Did you know that? The people of the Five Kingdoms mostly believe that the He-Kisshi are called Grakhul, because your kind have spread that lie. They spread it because words, especially names, sometimes have power and better to risk all of your kind than even one of the Undying.”
He leaned closer to her and she stared into the closest of his multi-faceted eyes. “Nothing to say to that? Very well, I will speak and explain. The gods did not create you. They altered you to suit their needs. That is a complicated trick, to be sure, but even I can do that and I cannot do what most gods can do. I cannot create.”
“I don’t understand.” She spoke with muffled words, as he still had his grip on her chin.
“Be patient, and I will show you.
“The He-Kisshi were created by the gods. They were formed from the nothing, given shape by the gods as surely as if the gods decided to have children. They were born into your world because the gods wanted voices to work for them.
“They are amazing creations. They are truly undying. Burn them away and they will reform. Cut them apart and bury them in a dozen different places and as soon as the parts are back together, they will rise again. You know this. Some of your own sacrificed yourselves that these might have bodies again.
“But while I cannot make life, I can change it.” Ariah shifted then, became smaller and paler until he looked like a male of the Grakhul. Not just any male, but this one’s life mate. A small blessing or curse depending on perspective. The woman whose chin he held saw him and blinked away angry tears, wounded by his gesture. “You see, this is why I find your kind so fascinating. I give you a face drawn from your best memories and you hate me all the more for it. I wonder if that is a choice, or if the gods reshaped you so that you have to be loyal to them.”
She said nothing, but continued to glare.
“Be lucky that I am feeling the time alone. I’ll not kill you just yet, but soon enough I might change my mind.”
He sighed.
“Or I could change you so that you obey me as you have your gods.”
She remained silent.
“Very well. Let me show you something. While mortals could not kill your He-Kisshi, I could if I worked hard enough. I would rather not expend the effort, at least not in that way. There are twelve of these creatures. I have three of them. One fourth of their entire numbers. I will make them my servants. I will offer them back to your world, but first I will change them to suit my needs.”
“The gods–”
“Will do nothing!” She flinched as he roared, but her face remained held in his grip. “They have made their prison well, but they have not stripped my power from me. That is beyond them. I am trapped here, but I do not wish to be seen by the gods and so I have stolen away their ability to see here. Even your He-Kisshi cannot let them see into my realm. Here I am the god.”
He sighed and let go of her chin.
“I cannot create, but I can change things as I must.”
He moved away from where she stood watching. There had been several attempts by her and her sisters to run from him and so, eventually, he simply had his vines wrap tightly around the lower halves of their bodies. She continued to work at the thick plants and they continued to remain unmoved.
“Look upon the children of your gods and watch how I make them my own.”
He touched the first of the heavy forms and the He-Kisshi shrieked, a sound that was completely unnatural, a hiss of ice on a hot skillet, a roar of a bear and a howling wind all rolled into one horrid cacophony.
The flesh that he touched blackened. It did not burn, but it changed. The fur that covered the flesh fell out and the hide thickened even more.
“Each beast must have a name. You were Lidin-Throm, child of the gods. Now you are Ahbra-Sede, the first bloom.” The flesh-cloak rose and shuddered. Ariah caught the thing in his hands and smiled, moving closer to his captive audience. “Should it be your honor to bear the first of my children?”
She shuddered and shook her head, whispering prayers to the gods.
“They cannot hear you here. They cannot answer you. Only I can offer you mercy.” He moved past her and looked at one of the others. She was younger, barely entering the first blossom of adulthood. He smiled and cast the cloak at her.
Ahbra-Sede took her as the He-Kisshi had always taken a host, and the wretch screamed her agonies into the air.
The insect that Ariah grabbed was small and hard-shelled. He held it in his palm and changed it, made it something different than it had ever been before. His smile was wide and chilling to the woman he spoke with. “I cannot leave my poor child defenseless against the He-Kisshi.” He moved his hand to the cowled face of the thing he called Ahbra-Sede and blew his newly changed pet into the thing’s maw. The woman watched, horrified, as the beast swallowed the offering.
Ahbra-Sede staggered and reeled, shivered and changed. Whatever was happening was painful and the woman once more made a prayer to the gods that could not hear her, begging that the creature be granted mercy.
Ariah smiled indulgently as he touched the second of the He-Kisshi. “I told you, they cannot hear your words and pleas. If you would like mercy, you should pray to me.”
She did not listen. So, when he was done altering the third of the He-Kisshi into one of his children, he settled the living nightmare on her shoulders and let it take her. “You were Bogrun-Nissht. Now you are Derhe-Sede, my third bloom.” He fed the seeds into the creature’s mouth and continued his manipulations of spirit and flesh alike.
“We will have fun, my children, and you will get me from this place. It is a time for gods to fall, and demons to rise.”
Without a word the newly reborn children moved toward the hidden doorway between the worlds, an exit denied their creator. He nodded, satisfied with his plans.
Then he looked to the Grakhul left to him and shook his head. “What shall I do with you?”
They did not answer him.
After a time he smiled. “I know just the thing.” The changes he made were painful. All of the Grakhul screamed as they were transformed, and Ariah listened, pleased.
Niall Leraby
“That stick of yours is impressive.” Stanna looked at Niall as she spoke and with a frighteningly fast move she grabbed his walking staff and held it in her hands. She wasn’t really that much taller than him. It was the muscle tone that unsettled. That, and the scars, and, all right, her frightening proficiency with weapons. And if he was being honest, yes, she was bigger and stronger than him.
She held the staff in the flat of her palm and frowned as it wobbled this way and that, staying in place only because she rolled the palm of her hand to make sure it stayed where she put it.
“The balance is bad. Too heavy on the one side and nothing to counter it.”
“Well, it is a walking staff.”
“Exactly the problem. We have to find a better weapon for you.”
She stood up and took his staff with her. “Come with me.”
What choice did he have, really? He’d had to find a proper stick in the first place and now she’d gone and taken it. Niall rose, frowning, and followed.
Stanna led the way to one of her wagons. There were several in their little caravan and as far as he could tell they all belonged to the slaver. He supposed being a slaver probably paid better than being a gardener’s apprentice.
Stubble was growing on the sides of her head, and as she walked Stanna ran her fingers along the stuff, mumbling to herself.
Not far away, Temmi watched as they passed and called out to Stanna, “You look wrong with that much hair.”
“Yes. I am aware. I’ll b
e shaving it away soon.” She smiled at the other woman and spun Niall’s staff in her hand effortlessly.
She dropped his staff to the ground when she reached the third wagon and started moving a dozen different weapons out of her way. Finally she pulled out a deeply polished staff that was longer than his which had a weighted metal ball on one end and on the other a long blade that looked wickedly sharp.
“Here. Feel the balance.” She tossed the weapon toward him, taking care that the pointy end was not aimed in his direction. He caught it and looked at the piece. It weighed almost the same as his staff. A little more, but not much.
“Well balanced, yes?”
He looked her way and nodded. “Yes, actually. Impressively crafted.”
“Good! Now defend yourself.”
Her foot caught his old staff and she flipped it into the air, catching it with ease. While he was still being impressed by her ability to raise the thing into the air, Stanna swept the heavy end of the staff toward Niall’s skull.
He barely got the spear up in time to stop the strike and, as it was, he had to backpedal to keep his balance. Stanna came at him again, moving forward, her eyes locked on him, her expression pure murderous intent, and Niall let out a squawk as he defended himself a second time, the impact of the blow running up his arms.
He got a better grip on the spear and slid into a defensive position. Stanna brought the head of his walking staff down toward his skull, and he blocked her, stepping in close and bringing the weighted ball of the weapon around in a hard arc.
The slaver blocked his move effortlessly, and shoved him backward with her superior mass. He stumbled, almost caught himself and landed on his backside in the dirt.
The spear bounced away from him and Niall tensed, expecting to break his arm deflecting the next blow. Instead, Stanna walked past him and grabbed the spear. She tossed it to him again.
“Excellent! Now stand up and do it again.” Niall looked at the woman as he caught the spear and then started standing. She didn’t wait long but came at him again with the walking staff. Niall jumped out of the way and got a death grip on his spear.
“What are you doing, woman?” He dodged to the left as she came at him again, and barely missed getting his ribs swatted for his efforts.
“Teaching you how to use a spear. Come at me, Niall. Make me know I am fighting a man.”
He shook his head and advanced on her, the pointy end of his new weapon aimed at her face.
Stanna slapped the spear aside with his staff and moved in closer as he recovered. Her hand caught him in the chest and sent him sprawling. She’d knocked the wind clean out of him and he grunted, gasping on the ground as she stood over him.
“Stand up again.”
He nodded and got to his hands and knees, still gasping. She waited patiently until he was actually standing and then she attacked, the staff hitting his spear hard enough to sound like a tree falling in the woods. He kept his grip and then grunted as she smashed into him with her shoulder.
Still he stood. This time around he’d braced himself. She brought a flurry of attacks down on him and he defended as best he could, using the spear much as he would his staff, pleased by the balance it offered.
Five minutes passed before she stopped attacking him, and Niall was winded, panting and sweating by the time they were done.
Stanna may as well have been taking a stroll for all the effort it seemed to take her.
“Better. We will practice again tomorrow.”
She threw his staff into her wagon.
“We will?”
“Yes. In the meantime you should find a cover for your blade. And oil. It will need regular sharpening, of course.”
Niall eyed the woman for a moment and nodded, doing his best to smile. Oil? Where was he supposed to find oil?
He had not spoken aloud, still Stanna said, “Ask Temmi. She has oil and a whetstone, both.” She turned on her heel and started walking. Niall watched the way she moved, predatory and sensual all at once, and tried not to stare. “Go saddle up. It’s time to ride. We’ll be at your city soon enough.”
That put a smile on his face. Edinrun was home. He’d never much cared for it when he was there, but after being taken by the Undying, and escaping being a sacrifice to the gods, he was thinking that his family’s estate just might be the best place in the world that he had ever seen.
Tully was climbing on her horse at the same time that Niall managed to work his way up onto the animal that Temmi had procured for him. Her exchange of services for coin had worked out very well indeed when it came to translating for Stanna. The animals were not the largest or the fastest, but they were mostly tame and well trained. So far, the thing hadn’t bucked even once while he was on it. He’d seen a man thrown before, and never wanted to be in that position.
Tully shook her head and looked at him. “I do not know about our companions.”
“What do you mean?” He offered a frown of confusion.
Tully scowled. “They’re slavers, for one. Not that they’ve tried anything foolish, but you never know. And Lexx, for the other, he keeps staring at you and at me when he thinks we’re not looking.”
That earned a nod. “Thought it was my imagination.”
“No. It’s very real. I thought it was just his eyes. I don’t know what happened to him, or how he was mended, but his eyes are broken when you look at them. They’ve been broken and fixed, but not fixed right.”
Indeed, that was the case. His irises looked like broken plates badly reassembled. Likely there was a Galean healer in the mix somewhere; otherwise the man would have been blind.
He nodded, and Tully continued. “Also, they are heading with us to Edinrun, and that is fine, but they travel without slaves. What are they going to sell?”
“Oh, well, they were going to sell slaves. Turns out the slaves they were going to sell belonged to the Undying, so it was best to let them go.”
Tully thought about that for a moment as they both started their horses on the path, a distance behind the slavers, actually. They’d catch up if it looked like they had to, but Niall, at least, was fine staying away from the rotting heads that adorned most of the wagons.
“That makes sense, then,” Tully said. “But in any event, I don’t like Lexx and I don’t trust him.”
“Stanna seems all right.”
“She’s not interested in you.”
He felt his face flush. “I never said she was.”
“Just as well. She’s interested in Temmi.”
“Seriously?” He looked ahead and saw the two of them riding side by side, engaged in a conversation.
“Oh, yes. She wants Temmi.”
“Does Temmi know?”
“Of course she does. She’s much smarter than you are.”
“I’m plenty smart.”
“Can’t see what’s right in front of you. If you could you’d have known Stanna isn’t interested in men.”
“Well, maybe she likes men and women.”
“Might be, but she doesn’t like you in any event.”
He looked at Stanna again and couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or pleased. Like as not she’d kill him if she was a rough lover. He’d known a lady back home, Daureen, who had a penchant for biting and hitting during sex. She’d been fun for a while, but one can only get battered so many times…
“What are you going to do with the spear?”
“Apparently I’m supposed to use it as a weapon.”
“Don’t be an ass. I’m asking a legitimate question.”
“Stanna decided I need a better weapon than my stick, so she’s teaching me as we travel.”
Tully nodded. “I prefer my knives.”
“You see, that’s the problem. I am horrid with blades. I’ve cut myself almost every time I’ve even used my shears for cutting and pruning.” He held up his left hand and pointed to a scar on his palm. “You’d think after two years as an apprentice I’d get better, but no, I did
this only a few weeks before the Undying showed.”
“And you want to use a spear with a blade like that?”
“Not particularly, no. But it seemed safer than arguing with Stanna.”
“A solid point, she’d break you over her knee.”
“I’m not a twig.” He tried not to sound offended and failed.
“It’s a matter of scale. Next to me you are large and even fairly well muscled. Next to Stanna you are a twig.”
“Fair enough.”
“What will you do when we get to your home?”
“I’ll make sure that you and a select few are invited to stay at the family estate until you can find out what you want to do. As I will tell my parents that you saved my life, which is true, they will be most grateful and will accept you eagerly.”
“Family estate? I thought you were an apprentice gardener.”
“I’m apprenticed to Mosara, who is the gardener to the royal palace. It’s very prestigious, I assure you.”
“Does that sort of thing pay well?”
“If it didn’t, I’d be forced to stay in the family business.”
“And what is the family business?”
“My father buys things. Beyond that I’m not entirely certain.”
Tully shook her head.
“What?”
“If I had a family business. I’d know more about it.”
“What does your family do?”
“If I had a family I could tell you. I was taken in by a guild. They taught me a trade.”
“What sort of trade?”
Tully took one of her blades and tossed it into the air, catching it without bothering to look closely. “It involves knives.”
That was the end of the conversation for a while. Instead of speaking any more, Tully worked on oiling and sharpening her blades. After a while she even showed Niall how to sharpen his new spear, though that was more challenging than he expected while riding on his horse.
Bron McNar
In Stoneheart, the castle that was the heart of Stennis Brae, King Bron McNar played host to the rulers or delegates of all five kingdoms. Three massive hearths burned brightly and offered warmth to the room that was normally chilled, even in the heart of the summer, while numerous torches lit the great hall. The table was set with platters of meat and fruit and breads. Several cheeses sat on a large plate in the center, and Bron found himself nibbling a good deal more than he should have.
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