The God-Touched Man

by Melissa McShane

  “Stop,” Ayane said, and Piercy tugged on the reins, then climbed down when the carriage came to a stop. Dolobeka was looking out the window, his face lacking its usual scowl.

  “It feels wrong,” he said. “It is no real forest. It is a living thing.”

  “Technically, as it comprises hundreds of thousands of trees and other flora, it is a living thing,” Piercy said, “but I take your meaning. It feels as if it’s looking at us.”

  “Stop staring at it and start loading up,” Ayane said. She’d climbed into the carriage from the other side and was tossing out coats, bags of food, and felted wool hats with wide, stiff brims. “The rain ruined any tracks I might have seen, so I have no idea whether Hodestis is ahead of us. We have to move quickly.”

  “What of the horses?” Dolobeka said. “We cannot leave them like this.”

  “We’re letting them go,” Piercy said, “much as I am loath to leave ourselves with no transportation when we finally emerge. If we are not successful…I am reluctant to leave them tied where they cannot free themselves.” He very carefully didn’t say the words if we die. No sense drawing the Gods’ attention to the precariousness of their situation.

  Dolobeka scowled. “We are at a disadvantage.”

  “Then stay behind. You can take the carriage back to town, and from there to Matra,” Ayane said. She buttoned her coat, which was a man’s greatcoat slightly too large for her, and added, “It really isn’t your fight.”

  “I have thrown in my lot with yours,” Dolobeka said. “I will not leave until I have my revenge.”

  “Then I suggest you take up your share of the burden,” Piercy said, shouldering the bundle of the tent and strapping it securely to his back. He held out a large handkerchief and said, “And cover your eyes. I will tie us together.”

  Ayane was swiftly unhitching the horses and tossing the tack into the carriage. “He will be a liability,” she said to Piercy in Dalanese.

  “He has proved loyal, to my surprise. He can still fight, and carry some of the supplies,” Piercy said. “And I find his presence makes a buffer between us.”

  “You think it is that hard to be in my presence?”

  Piercy shouldered his pack, keeping himself turned away from her. “I think I have gone past the point,” he said, “where I can only call you ‘friend.’ Forgive me for not rejoicing in our situation.”

  He tied rope securely around Dolobeka’s waist and then around Ayane’s, managing not to look into her eyes. When he fastened the end of the rope around himself, Ayane said, “I should go first.”

  “Were we tracking Hodestis with our eyes, I would agree with you,” Piercy said. “But as we must go blindfolded, and I am a member of the Dalanese government with explicit instructions to apprehend a Dalanese citizen, I feel confident in saying it is both my right and my duty to lead the way.” He tied a cloth around his eyes, then drew out his walking stick and tapped it on the ground ahead of him. If Tedoratis was wrong, they might walk until they were thoroughly lost. If she was right…well, they might wish she’d been wrong instead.

  He waited, listening to the sound of Ayane and Dolobeka adjusting their burdens, then took a step, then another, feeling ahead of himself with his walking stick and his left hand. The ground was uneven beneath his feet. The tall grass had concealed its lumpiness, and he stumbled and caught himself before he could fall and take the other two down with him. Everything seemed louder now: the noise the grass made as the wind brushed it, like a hundred infants breathing at once; the sound of insects whining as they flew past his knees and face; high above, geese honking at each other, possibly for direction. He wished he had more than just the walking stick for direction, something longer, like a staff or even a branch.

  He’d been avoiding thinking about what would happen if they arrived and Hodestis was already within the Underworld. Kerensa’s story had stayed with him since she’d first told it, five years ago, and he was very aware they lacked any of the objects that had kept Alvor from being permanently lost. If they had to pursue Hodestis….

  Well, what did Piercy know about the story? Alvor had blindfolded himself much as they were now, to avoid being distracted, which meant the spirits thronging those passages were capable of deceiving living men. He used the ointment to identify the door Carall went through, which meant the doors of Death were altered by a spirit’s presence, but what did that mean for tracking someone living? And the absurd hazelnut—that suggested a need for something that would separate a spirit from the mass, but it didn’t have to be something it hated, just something that set it apart.

  Piercy ground his teeth together again. He had too many questions and not enough answers.

  His fingers scraped across rough bark and the stick jammed, giving him just enough time to stop before running face-first into an oak tree. Ayane bumped into him and recoiled, making him feel as if he’d been stabbed. Well, if he couldn’t bear to speak to her, why should he expect her to want physical contact with him? “The place of power must be deeper than this,” he said. “Do not remove the blindfolds.”

  He felt his way around the tree, which was enormous, bigger than he could wrap his arms around and smelling richly of bark and moss. Now he went more slowly, reaching out as far as he could with fingers that ached with the premonition of more collisions. His foot caught on a root, and this time he did fall, landing hard on his outstretched hands. He knelt on the ground for a few seconds, feeling around for the fallen stick, then got heavily to his feet and moved on. Ayane and Dolobeka said nothing, though a jolt through the rope told him Ayane had found the same root but avoided falling.

  He lost track of time, becoming nothing more than feet and hands and nostrils and ears, sniffing for the scent of snow. He realized abruptly that he heard no animal cries, no birds nor skittering squirrels, and tried not to imagine what might be the reason for that lack. He brushed up against trees four more times, but despite stumbling again and again, he didn’t lose his footing.

  His hand landed on an unpleasantly wet patch of moss, and he shook the bits of plant off his hand and then wiped it on his trouser leg. Tedoratis had to be mistaken. They were going to wander this forest until they died, and Hodestis would escape because he was going somewhere entirely different no one knew about, and he would resurrect the Witch and she would…well, he didn’t actually know what she might do, but if Kerensa thought she was dangerous, it couldn’t be anything good.

  He took another step and his foot came down with a soft crunch. Cold flooded up his left leg, and as he reflexively completed another step, icy wind struck him full in the face and made him recoil. “We’ve found it. Do not remove the blindfolds until you are fully within, just in case,” he said.

  Still groping ahead with his hands, he continued to walk forward, feeling the rope between him and Ayane stretch taut again and hoping she had the good sense to just keep walking no matter how cold it was. Ice crystals were forming inside his nostrils, and he wished he’d thought to wear the padded gloves tucked into his waistband; he’d still have been able to find the trees even if his hands weren’t bare. No point thinking about it now.

  Then he felt the rope shaking as Ayane untied herself, and he quickly freed himself from the end of the rope and put on the gloves. He pulled off the blindfold and had to shield his eyes from the driving snow. Tedoratis had said “winter,” not “blizzard.” He was grateful now they’d planned for the worst.

  They freed themselves, and Piercy looped the coiled rope diagonally around his chest. “If we simply proceed forward, I think it’s unlikely we will be able to stay in a straight line.”

  “That might not matter,” Ayane said. “The gates could be anywhere. And we don’t have a Dirn-Hound.”

  “We have a thing belonging to the God, though,” Dolobeka said.

  “It’s not alive.”

  “But if we are fortunate,” Piercy said, “the God’s favor will be enough.” He drew the sword from its scabbard and held it up, squinting
at it against the wind. To his astonishment, blue light ran like oil along one edge of the blade, brightly enough to be easily visible despite the flying snow. He hadn’t actually believed the sword would behave any differently in this place.

  He pretended it was what he’d expected and held it out before him, turning slightly. The blue glow dimmed and then brightened as he moved, dimmed again, then became bright when he swung back.

  “I suggest we follow where it leads,” he said.

  Ayane nodded and came to stand directly behind him. Dolobeka brought up the rear. Piercy raised the sword higher and walked into the storm.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was easy to imagine, from the howls and whimpers of the wind and the cold that bit at every exposed inch of skin, that they had already entered the Underworld, that they had been lost for years and would never find their way out. Only the blue light tracing out the edge of the blade showed any sign of change, because it wavered and dimmed every time Piercy took a wrong step. He prayed they were following a true guide, and not some whim of Cath’s, some punishment for entering his realm uninvited. Of course, if that were true, Hodestis would be in even more trouble than they were.

  The wind made one final scream in his ears, and then it was gone, leaving behind a landscape as still as a painting. Snow piled high among the trunks and in drifts between them. It was so silent Piercy might have thought he’d gone deaf, except he could hear Ayane’s breathing and Dolobeka’s louder, rougher exhalations, as if he’d been exerting himself more than they had. That was probably true. The sword’s light gleamed as steadily as before.

  “Well? Keep going,” Ayane said, sounding irritated, and to his surprise and slight annoyance he was cheered rather than angered at her impatient words. He hadn’t realized how much it pained him to see her so dull and lacking in animation. Without a word, he slogged forward through the knee-high snow. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, impossible to remember how long the journey had taken them, but it didn’t really matter, because what mattered was finding the gates to the Underworld, preferably before Hodestis did.

  Snow fell into his boots, which weren’t very waterproof, and soon his feet were soaked and cold. His gloves were only a little better at keeping his hands warm, though the hand holding the sword was somewhat warmer than the other, and he wished he had a heavier coat. He had no idea how Ayane and Dolobeka fared, since he needed to keep all his attention on the blue glow, but he could hear them stumping along behind him and felt slightly annoyed that he was the one breaking the trail, even if he had volunteered for it. Even someone with little knowledge of following tracks could see the snow stretched out unblemished into the distance, without even the marks where rabbits or foxes might have run. He coughed, cleared his throat, then stopped and rubbed his eyes. “Do you see that?” he said. “I have been staring at the light for so long I think my eyesight has deserted me.”

  Ayane and Dolobeka came to stand beside him. “I see it,” Ayane said, “at least, I see something manmade. That has to be it.” She ran forward. Piercy cursed and hurried to catch up to her. Of course she would go pelting into possible danger without thinking of the consequences.

  The trees were thinly scattered now, and soon they opened up into a clearing as perfectly round as Telwyth Forest’s boundaries had been sharp. In the center of the clearing stood a hut no more than five feet tall, windowless, with a domed, thatched roof and a chimney as tall again as the hut. Smoke rose from it, drifting away into the night sky—had they really been traveling so long? A single door little more than a thin piece of warped pine hung askew in its frame, but no light emerged from around its irregular edges. Piercy’s heart sank. A trapper’s hut. He sheathed the sword and slogged after Ayane.

  Movement beyond the hut made him grab Ayane’s arm and put her behind him. Someone small—”By the Gods, it’s Lady Gelventer,” he exclaimed. “My lady, are you well?”

  The Lady High Chamberlain stumbled around the side of the hut. She clutched a dark blue cloak closely around herself, but the hood lay limply over her shoulders and her fair hair was dusted with snow crystals. “Who are you?” she said.

  “Friends,” Piercy said, “friends who have come to rescue you. Where is the man who kidnapped you?”

  Dull, uncomprehending eyes turned toward Piercy, blinking slowly as if the Lady had to concentrate on moving her eyelids. “There was a short man,” she said, “but he’s gone now.”

  “Where did he go?” Ayane said, moving ahead of Piercy and out of his reach. He ground his teeth together, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, and it wasn’t as if the Lady High Chamberlain was going to attack her. “We must make sure he does not enter the Underworld.”

  “He was here, and then he wasn’t. I can’t really remember.” The Lady swayed, and Ayane rushed forward to support her. Piercy started making his way around the clearing. Hodestis had been here, and he must have left behind some sign of his presence.

  “There is a tent here,” he said, brushing snow off what he’d thought was a boulder or a large tree trunk. “A tent, and bedding. Hodestis no doubt left Lady Gelventer here while he went to search for the entrance to the Underworld. He could not have anticipated you waking so soon from desini cucurri.”

  “I don’t remember,” Lady Gelventer repeated. “I woke up in the tent, and the small man was there. Or maybe he was there and then I woke. It’s all confused.” She took a few more steps, aided by Ayane, then abruptly sat down in the snow with her hand pressed to her forehead.

  “That is all right, Lady Gelventer, it is normal to be confused after this,” Ayane said. “We need to get her someplace warm,” she said in Santerran. “I don’t know anything about snow and cold, but she’s really not dressed for this weather and it can’t be good for her. Not to mention how often Hodestis must have cast paralysis on her.”

  “Agreed,” said Piercy, “but we must find Hodestis too. I suggest you take her from this place and Lord Dolobeka and I will search.”

  “Funny. Lord Dolobeka can take her.”

  “I will not be deprived of my revenge!”

  Piercy groaned. “Then I will take her to safety, and the two of you will search. And let us hope it is not too late.”

  Ayane nodded and turned her attention to the hut. “Maybe the person who lives here knows something.”

  Piercy helped the Lady High Chamberlain to her feet, put his arm around her, and supported her as she walked. She stumbled as they left the clearing, her foot catching on some unseen root or bramble, and Piercy had to tighten his grip to keep her from falling. “I cannot express how grateful we are to find you well and unharmed,” he said, carefully not saying and alive. “As soon as we are out of this place, I will communicate the happy news to the capital.”

  “That I’m alive? I suppose they should know about it,” Lady Gelventer said. “The small man cast a spell on me. I dislike having spells cast on me. I remember that.”

  “Very sensible. I personally am not fond of it, either.” Lady Gelventer stumbled again, this time falling to one knee before Piercy could stop her. “My Lady, I hesitate to offer what must surely be a gross imposition, but perhaps I could carry you until you have regained the full use of your limbs?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. Vertiri. Torpia presadi.” She followed the words with a complicated gesture directed at her legs, then shook them out one at a time, stamping the ground with her feet.

  “Yes, that would be…useful….” Piercy said. Odd. He’d never seen that spell before. Well, there were a lot of spells he’d never seen before. But there was something else—

  “Piercy!” It was Ayane, shrill and terrified, and that sent icy fear through his body, because he’d never heard her sound so helpless before.

  “Stay here!” Piercy told the Lady High Chamberlain and slogged his way back through the snow as fast as he could. Hodestis had reappeared and was threatening to kill her. He’d succeeded at his insane quest and now t
he spirit of the Witch was loose in the forest. Dolobeka had gone mad and attacked her—no, that was impossible, but anything that could frighten Ayane was terrible indeed.

  But when he reached the clearing, Dolobeka and Ayane were the only two people in sight. Dolobeka stood leaning against the rear of the hut as if he needed its support. Ayane knelt in the snow by his feet. “We found Hodestis,” she said, pointing at a dark lump next to her. “Piercy, he’s dead.”

  Piercy went to join them. Hodestis lay on his back with his large, dark eyes wide open, as if he’d been surprised by whatever killed him. He had a deflated look to him, and when Piercy lifted his arm to check his pulse, it felt like a bag filled with wood chips. “Frigo,” he said. “By the Gods. A magician did this.”

  “But—”Ayane said, then went silent. “But there isn’t anyone else here except—”

  Piercy held up his hand for silence. Carefully, hoping he looked nonchalant, he turned his head to look behind him. The Lady High Chamberlain stood at the edge of the clearing, her hands still clutching the edges of her cloak. She was looking at the body of Atheron Hodestis curiously. “I remember now,” she said. “That’s where he went. He really shouldn’t have cast a spell on me, even if it was just a little thing.”

  Piercy stood, slowly, letting his hand rest casually on the hawk-head of his stick. “What did the spell do?”

  Lady Gelventer turned her attention on Piercy. Her gaze was heavy, tangible, and he wanted to duck away from it. “Cleperi,” she said. “So I could speak to him. He was very excited about it, but I don’t know why he thought I would want to speak to him. He presumed too much.”

  Piercy could feel Ayane stand and begin moving to his right. He waved his right hand at her frantically. They might still be able to survive this. What a fool he was not to have remembered Lady Gelventer was not a magician. “I imagine he called you by your first name without being invited to do so,” he said.

  The Lady High Chamberlain smiled at him, a peaceful, happy smile. “Now, you understand,” she said. “I can tell you’re a polite young man. And so handsome, too. I would like you to call me Dalessa.”