The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  Eye of the Needle, Eye of the Storm.

  There was a mind, a dagger-mind, tearing her apart, crushing her soul to death and he pleaded with it to spare her and crush him instead.

  Above the wind, he heard the whistling arrows, heard the squeal of the horse as they thudded into its body, realized that with Setse’s fall, they had dropped the Shield and the horse was paying the cost. His heart broke for in that instant he realized that he had never, unlike the Major or the Seer, named his horse.

  Spare her, he prayed to the Eyes. Crush me.

  He swung his other hand to grip the reindeer cloak, forced his claws through the thick leather, began to drag her – hand over fist – up to the edge of the bridge. The uneven weight of her pulled him closer and he braced with his feet, cursing the split-toed sandals that were standard fare for brothers in Sha’Hadin and he willed his claws to push through for grip.

  There was a snarl from his left. He could feel their thoughts, knew an arrow was being leveled at his head. He didn’t care. If this girl, this Oracle, this little slip of a dog, died, he would as well. He knew that in his bones and so he hung on as more and more arrows were being leveled at his head.

  “Guij baina!” he said, not knowing their tongue but speaking anyway. “Tuslaarai Jalair Naranseteg!”

  Hand over fist, he continued to pull until he could see her over the stone of the bridge, but he could also see the clasp that held the cloak begin to twist and pull.

  “Guij baina, ahtai!” he pleaded.

  “Jalair Naranseteg?” he heard a voice growl. “Be Karan Uurt?”

  Suddenly, there was shouting, shoving and several stub-clawed hands reached over the edge, grabbing hold of the cloak, her arms and finally dragging the unmoving form of Jalair Naransetseg onto Ancestral stone.

  The dagger-mind moved, releasing her from its iron grip. He felt the weight of it fall across him like a stone.

  Many dogs grabbed him, pulled him to his feet and off the bridge but they brought the Oracle as well and for that he was grateful. She had been spared. He would be crushed. It was a good bargain.

  He didn’t fight as they beat him into the snow.

  ***

  A wail went up from behind him and Kirin turned to see the Alchemist, doubled over in her saddle. They were very high up in the mountains, still following the Oracle’s trail and the dog was far in the front. Kirin reined Shenan back.

  “Sidala?”

  She was breathing heavily, one arm around her waist, one hand at her forehead.

  “Sidala, can I help?”

  “An attack, sidi.” She looked up at him, golden eyes wide. “Of the mind.”

  “On you?”

  “On all of us. The Khargan is using a Necromancer.”

  Kirin shuddered at the thought. Darkest of the dark. He was certain Sherah al Shiva knew this well.

  She turned her eyes to the dog ahead of them on the road.

  “But Setse has fallen.”

  “The Oracle?” Kirin frowned. “Are you certain?”

  “I am not a Seer, sidi. But I felt this as surely as I felt the birth of our baby.”

  “And the others? benAramis, Yahn Nevye, my brother?”

  “I cannot see, sidi. My soul reels still.”

  He sighed, cast his eyes out over the mountains, the glimpses of Tevd between the peaks. There appeared to be a gorge separating them and he wondered if there was a bridge somewhere. This would be futile without a bridge.

  The dog had paused on the road, turned back to watch them and wait.

  He spurred his horse toward the gorge.

  ***

  “Well well,” said the Seer out loud. “They’ve made a Shield.”

  “Oh? What?” Fallon looked over at him from the back of her painted horse. She was riding without reins, holding the baby in her arms. “Who’s made a Shield?”

  “Yahn Nevye and Setse. Do you feel that, Grey Coat?”

  Kerris and Quiz were in the lead and he turned only his head. “Nope, don’t feel a thing. I’m not a Seer, remember? My problems are entirely more pleasant.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Fallon grinned. “He’s just being a kitten. Speaking of kittens…”

  And she buried her face into the baby’s belly, made happy mommy noises and Kylan cooed with delight.

  Next to them, Ursa scowled and lashed her tail.

  Bo Fujihara laughed at them all and put his pipe between his teeth.

  Like an ocean of dragons, the Army of Blood was spread out behind them, growing narrower and tighter as the road rose one last time into the mountains. The falcon had returned with the promise of a flatter land, a vast plateau of high hills and yellow rocks. They would make better time with such a land.

  Sireth sighed, sat deep in the saddle.

  “I wonder why they’ve made a Shield?”

  “Well, think about it,” said Fallon, her attention completely focused on the baby. “Why do we make the Shield?”

  “For dogs, stupid girl,” snorted the Major. “To stop their arrows.”

  “So that’s probably what they’re doing then—Oh.” Fallon clutched the baby to her chest as she realized what she was saying. “Oh mother…”

  “Oh mother, indeed,” said Bo. “They must be close to the Legion.”

  And the Last Seer of Sha’Hadin closed his eyes.

  “This is useless,” growled the Major. “We should take the entire Army and run straight down their throats.

  “In these mountains?” said Bo. “Once this army begins a charge, there is no stopping it. We would kill more horses than dogs with that tactic.

  Her marbled tail lashed once again.

  “There is a bridge,” muttered Sireth, eyes closed. “They are together and there is a Legion and they are on a bridge—Aiya!”

  He hissed and doubled-over in the saddle.

  “What?” and the snow leopard reached across horses to push his thigh. “What is it? Is the jaguar dead? Is the dog?”

  “Kerris,” called Fallon.

  “An attack,” growled Sireth through clenched teeth. “A very powerful mind…”

  “Yahn Nevye?” asked Fallon.

  “The Alchemist?” growled Ursa.

  “A monster…”

  “Fight back,” said Ursa. “You are steel. Kill it.”

  “I can’t…It is Necromancy. Dark, dark magic.” He raised his head, eyes still closed. “Grey Coat, come here.”

  “What?” said Kerris. “Me?”

  “Over here, idiot,” snarled the Major.

  Kerris eased back on the little mountain pony and soon was beside Dune the red desert horse and the mongrel on his back.

  “The Khan of Khans,” said Sireth. “On the plains of Shibeth, ten thousand gathered and dark, dark magic…”

  “Lovely,” said Kerris.

  “Move the earth.”

  “What?”

  “Move the earth under the Khan of Khans, under the dark magic.”

  “I…”

  “Do it!” snapped the Major.

  “I don’t know how!” snapped the lion.

  And with eyes still closed, the Seer reached out a hand across the horses to grab a grey wrist. Kerris yelped and Quiz bucked beneath him.

  “Move…the earth…”

  Their horses stopped as the Seer slid from his, pulled the lion from the pony’s back. Fallon, Ursa and Bo halted as well, creating a protective wall with their mounts as Bo waved the Army of Blood around them. The Seer slipped his hands into Kerris’ hair as if crushing his head with his palms and together they sank to their knees.

  Fujihara pulled the pipe out from between his teeth and stared.

  “Amnishakra,” grunted Ursa to the Chi’Chen ambassador. “He is a powerful man.”

  “Move the earth,” benAramis repeated. “Move it.”

  Clutching the baby, Fallon swung off her horse to hover over her husband, watching with large emerald eyes as he grimaced and groaned.

  “Do you see it? Do y
ou feel it?”

  “Yes…”

  “Do you feel the monster on top of the earth? By the fire?”

  “It’s like the bear,” and he shuddered, eyes clenched tight. “The hairless bear in the Compound, only bigger…”

  “Sink into the earth beneath the monster, become one with the earth, become it.”

  Kerris moaned, growled, lashed his own grey tipped tail.

  “Move the earth beneath the monster or the girl will die. Move it now.”

  “But that’s so far away.”

  “Just feel it. Do you feel it?”

  “I feel it.”

  “Then move it.”

  Kerris clenched his fists and a small stone shot up from beneath the snow and they all stepped back. Soon, more stones – pebbles and dust and sand and grit, like a grey-brown cloud leapt from the road and began to circle around his hands. Soon, the earth beneath their feet began to move.

  ***

  The Eye of the Needle was shrieking in its skin pocket and the Storm released a breath that sounded like the rumble of thunder.

  “The Magic falls like a star from the heavens,” they said, the Storm still a half beat behind his hairless companion. “One by one they fall to their deaths.”

  The rumble of thunder was growing louder.

  “They have seen us, we are known to him. He will not look away unscathed.”

  The fire began to pop and spit as the rumble of thunder shook the ground beneath them all.

  “Geomancer! Geomancer sharpens his claws on the Khan’s Ten Thousand!”

  Those closest began to back away from the feast fire but the Khargan rose to his feet.

  “Hold your ground!” he commanded, his voice booming over the roaring of the earth.

  “Lord,” cried Long-Swift. “It is Geomancery. The Oracle is calling Dark Forces!”

  “No coward will stand in the Ten Thousand of the Khan!” he shouted. “Hold your ground or die by my sword!”

  The Oracles were wailing now and the ground was shaking when suddenly, in the center of the feast fire, the earth began to rise.

  Even the Khargan staggered back now as rock and black earth heaved from the ground, followed by huge clouds of dust. Next, stones as large as men burst from the pit, flew high into the air before crashing like rain onto the army. But no one moved, even as those beside and before and behind them were crushed, even as the gars of Jia’Khan collapsed in on themselves and the poles cracked and splintered, the army held its ground. The Storm was thrown from his place by the fire, crushing two other men beneath his weight and even the Bear was sent to his knees.

  The earth coughed rocks and spat stones and it seemed to last hours but finally, the rumbling faded until all that was left was the choking black dust, settling like mist to the ground and the shrieking of the Needle in his pocket of flesh.

  Long-Swift rose to his feet, swept his eyes around at the devastation, the village of Jia’Khan flattened, the many dead beneath huge stones. He looked as the Bear peered into the pit where the feast fire had been and raised his hands to the sky.

  In a sound as disturbing as the voice of the Oracles, the Khan of Khans began to laugh.

  ***

  Sireth opened his eyes just in time to catch the grey lion before he hit the ground.

  ***

  Abruptly, Setse came awake.

  She was under a lean-to, a makeshift gar fashioned from fallen trees and blankets and an old woman stared at her as she rolled to her knees.

  “Is that a blue eye, child?” asked the woman.

  “Where is Shar Ma’uul?”

  “Who?”

  “The yellow cat.”

  The old woman spat pine tar into a snowdrift and turned her face outside the gar.

  “Tell the lieutenant the girl’s awake and she’s an Oracle.”

  It was like a ripple on a lake how the word carried through the villagers of Lon’Gaar and Setse peered out from under the blanket to see people moving, fires burning, weapons being sharpened. Children darted close, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious girl who rode horses with the Enemy and but they quickly disappeared once they caught her eye. Soon, there was the crunching of boots as men approached and Setse rose to her feet.

  It was a troop of ten moving like an arrow and at the point was a slim man with shaved head, cropped ears and sharp features. He had a scar along his jaw, carried a curved dagger and he scowled at her.

  “I am Temujiin Altan, Lieutenant and Alpha of the 110th Legion of Khan Baitsukhan.”

  “Jalair Naransetseg, Granddaughter of the Blue Wolf.”

  “The Oracle of Karan Uurt. We’ve been searching for you, little rabbit. You are a long way from home.”

  “Where is Shar Ma’uul?”

  “We have skinned him. The tanner is making me a spotted coat.”

  The men snickered and the lieutenant stepped forward, running his eyes over her slight frame.

  “I have commissioned spotted boots as well. My betas have cooked the rest. Would you like to taste him? Or have you already?”

  The snickering grew and the men pressed into her from all sides. She raised her chin so that her blue eye caught the light.

  “You lie to an Oracle?” She looked at all the faces of the men around her. “Shall I tell you how the wife and children of Temujiin Altan have died?”

  “They are not dead,” Altan growled.

  “They are. Hacked to pieces in their beds or burned as they fled. Karan Uurt is no more, razed to the ground by the 2nd Legion of Khan Baitsukhan because of the failure of the 110th.”

  Murmurs were heard throughout the camp as even the villagers pressed in to hear.

  “The Khanmaker is coming,” she said. “The Khanmaker and the Army of Blood. Help me or I will tell you in detail how you and your men will die.”

  There was silence in the camp and he studied her for a moment.

  “You are a clever girl. And dangerous.”

  “You are the one choosing to laugh in the face of an Oracle.”

  “Feline pelts are remarkable things, are they not?” And he moved in closer, his eyes roaming over her face, her lithe young body. “His back had rings on it, with a spot in the center of each. They made perfect bullseyes for my archers.”

  “Your wife died calling your name.”

  “So you say.”

  “It is true.”

  “Then…” He raised a hand to stroke her throat, ran his fingers down to her chest. “I suppose I need a new one.”

  “Fire!” came a shout from the camp.

  “Riders!” came a shout from the bridge and the Legion snapped to attention, including Temujiin Altan. He looked away for only a heartbeat, when Setse drove the heel of her palm up and under his chin. He staggered and like a dancer, she dropped her head down and swung her leg behind her, high over her back to crack his forehead with her foot. She whirled, struck him again with her fist and he dropped into the snow.

  “Just like monkeys,” she said, grabbing his dagger and bolting into the crowd.

  ***

  The fires in the camp had roared to life, catching on anything and everything that would catch. Blankets, cedars, scraps of clothing and the villagers of Lon’Gaar tried in vain to put them out, scooping handfuls of snow and hard earth over the flames. The bridge was clattering with the sound of hooves but the Legion had been out of position and now they scrambled for any sort of cover. The bridge itself could not be seen as a wall of flame rippled and danced at its mouth, making targeting impossible. Arrows loosed either caught fire before they flew or were snatched out of the sky by an owl and dropped back over the camp.

  Three Imperial horses leapt through the wall of flame, running down and stomping any dog foolish enough or sluggish enough to stay in their path. They were followed by warriors moving so swiftly that they were difficult to see. A lion in armour the colour of blood, swinging the fabled double swords and lashing a tail that could take down trees. A woman wrapped in smoke and shado
w, leaping and striking and leaving a trail of soldiers in her wake. And finally, a dog sending arrow after arrow into legs, shoulders, arms and feet, wounding many, killing none.

  It was over in a very short time as villagers and soldiers were corralled in the heart of the camp, circled by walls of crackling fire. Children wailed and women moaned while tending the wounded. Outside, the horses snorted and pawed at the rocky ground and the dog perched high on a rock, arrows leveled, making sure no one would leave the protective circle of the flames.

  Kirin stood, hands on hips, both Blood and Jade Fang sheathed at the moment and he surveyed the people inside the circle of flame.

  “Who is your Alpha?” he asked. The Alchemist translated and many heads turned to a small, slim man with a scar on his chin. “What is your name, sidi?”

  The man spit on the ground. Kirin ignored it.

  “We are here on a mission of peace but we will kill all of you if you do not cooperate. Do you understand?”

  Again, the Alchemist translated and again, the Alpha spat.

  “Ancestors are rising in the west. We must present a united front against them or all our Kingdoms will fall.”

  Like an echo, Sherah translated every word and at the word for Ancestors, there was a murmur from the group.

  The Alpha growled.

  “He says there are no Ancestors,” said Sherah.

  “But there are. Surely you saw their star last year.”

  Anther translation, another murmur.

  “This is a trick of war,” said the Alpha through the Alchemist. “You are invading our land to take more for yourselves. Your Wall is not enough for you.”

  “If we were trying to take your land, we would not be having this conversation.”

  There was nothing said for several long moments.

  “Two of our team are missing. A yellow cat and a blue-eyed wolf. Where are they?”

  Sherah translated once more but the Alpha said nothing.

  There was a rush of wings and an owl dropped from the dark sky to settle onto the snow.

  Kirin looked at the Alchemist before stepping over to the bird.

  “Where is your Seer?” he asked.