Three Acts of Penance [01] Attrition: The First Act of Penance

by S. G. Night

  Nelle looked at Racath and rolled her eyes. “How gracious,” she murmured.

  “It’s fine,” Racath said. “I’ll go first. I could use the time to think.”

  Notak finished his bread and stood. “I shall take second. Wake me in three hours.” With that, he folded himself up into his bedroll and appeared to fall asleep instantly.

  “I think I’ll turn in, too,” Nelle yawned, untangling her legs from beneath herself. “You keep your eyes peeled, mkay? I hear that rabid bunnies lurk in these mountains.” She ruffled his hair.

  Racath laughed and swatted at her, but she danced away, giggling. “Sleep tight, then, silly girl.”

  Nelle’s eyes twinkled at him as she smiled. Yawning, she stretched her arms out and plopped down into bed.

  Grinning, Racath extended his hand to the fire and absorbed it through his markara until nothing was left but smoldering wood, darkening the camp. The Pyre purred appreciatively at the influx of energy.

  Racath went out to the mouth of the overhang and sat cross-legged on the slate. From this position, he could see the entire valley sprawled out below him in a sea of green grass waves, topped by caps of grey stone. The mountains ringed the valley in a tight circle: tall, proud, vigilant, like a protective phalanx.

  Racath looked to the skies — the real skies, locked within a prison of clouds. The rain had stopped, but the gloom remained like a ceiling of lead above the world. As Racath watched, however, the clouds ripped and tore like wool around the peaks of the mountains. A rift opened up in the iron sky, wide as the valley, and a ray of rare, precious treasure glimmered down on Racath’s eyes.

  Stars. Thousands of them. They were reticent at first, but as he watched transfixed, more emerged and shed their lights down on him. Before long, they were innumerable; to Racath, it was like looking into a chest of jewels and precious stones.

  There were rubies, burning brave crimson. There were diamonds, smiling soft-white starlight. There were sapphires, bashful beams of blue beside their emerald lovers, who flattered them with verdant kisses. There was proud amethyst, deep amber, and burnished gold. There was even a slim, silver sliver of polished moonlight.

  Betwixt each gem, splashes of cosmic haze swirled in the great beyond, like ink in water. Every star was arranged with artistic care, hung by God and the Mother Themselves in a divine masterpiece painted on the sky. A countless multitude of celestial gems strewn across a canvas of deep-blue velvet, shining with all the colors of the night.

  I wonder if he saw the same stars then I did myself all those years ago, when they still looked down on me with love.

  The fraying clouds stretched and fought against the mountains, struggling to reseal the gap. Racath frowned; he knew just how uncommon a glimpse of starlight was in Io, even in the Spikes. Once the Demons’ awful clouds scabbed over, the celestial picture would be gone, not to be seen again for months or even years. A terrible loneliness gripped him as the iron clouds knit back together, squelching out the rays of star-shine.

  Almost without meaning to, he produced Daragoian from its scabbard and laid the katana across his lap: it was, at least, something bright to stave off the clouded darkness, in lieu of naked starlight.

  But as the stark, steely blade came free, it caught the final, ephemeral beam of light before the clouds could smother it. The sword burned white with reflected star-shine, and the rift in the cloudy prison splayed open again, as if rent open by Daragoian’s woken edge. The clouds receded. The stars returned.

  Furrowing his brow, Racath held the sword upright before his face, studying the adamantine blade. The flawless metal seemed to welcome the starlight. At certain angles, it became a polished mirror, painting the blade with an image of the sky. At others, it seemed to absorb the light into itself. It burned red, white, blue, green, purple and gold with the luster cast by the godly gemstones above, becoming a blazing splinter of purest nightfire. It was as though the sword and stars, both wrought by the hand of God, were embracing like old, forgotten brothers.

  But Racath’s fascination lasted for only an transient moment. He was pulled away from the spectacle of nightfire as a sound reached his ears. It came from directly ahead of him, whisper-quiet on the breeze. It was so soft, so distant, so indistinct that no Human could possibly have heard it. But his keen Majiski hearing picked it up as clearly as if it were a shout in an empty room. He knew the sound — footsteps through grass.

  He looked out into the valley, his sharp eyes searching. There — two shapes, black-on-black against the darkened landscape, perhaps a hundred yards away. They were approaching the overhang.

  Racath leapt to his feet. When he looked again, the shapes were moving, blurring in two different directions as though they knew he had spotted them. He watched the pair of silhouettes move in a broad circular pattern, heading towards the camp. They moved like predators, like sharks circling. Circling the Scorpions.

  Quickly and quietly as he could, he went back under the overhang and shook each of his companions by the shoulder, hard. Nelle first, then Notak, then Rachel.

  “Mmph!” Nelle protested.

  Rachel growled sleepily. “What do you—”

  “Shh!” Racath urged them. “No time, don’t argue. Just stay quiet.”

  “What is it?” Notak asked, coming awake instantly.

  “Trouble,” Racath whispered, gripping Daragoian tighter between his fingers. “Come on, all of you, on your feet. Weapons ready. We’ve got company.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Intruders

  The Scorpions moved to stand in a half-circle beneath the overhang, facing outward. Racath held Daragoian at the ready, tip pointed outward. Nelle readied both of her short swords. Notak spun the lanac axe’s chain in a steady circle, ready to lash out with it should the need arise. Rachel drew her Shaeyéd steel stilettos from the loops on her elbows, twirling them restlessly between her fingers.

  “Where?” Notak asked quietly.

  Racath’s eyes scanned the darkened valley, trying to rediscover the two silhouettes. “One at thirty degrees,” he whispered back. “The other mirroring him to the left. Circling. Two hundred feet and closing.”

  “I think I see them,” Rachel said. “They’re trying to get around behind us.”

  “Let them get closer,” Racath directed. “They know we’ve seen them. Stay alert, but don’t attack until we know who it is we’re dealing with.”

  “Does this seem strange to anyone else?” Notak said.

  Nelle nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen any kind of Dominion deployment like this.”

  “Could be huntsmen,” Rachel suggested under her breath.

  Nelle shook her head. “No, they work in packs. Ten or twelve strong. I’ve never heard of anything, Demon or otherwise, that travels in pairs.”

  She was right — this was all too suspicious for Racath’s liking. Who could this possibly be? The only explanation that made sense was some kind of hunt-and-kill team from the Dominion, but how had they possibly known to look for them, the Scorpions, a cell so shrouded in mystery that even most Genshwin thought of them as a myth? Hell, how could the Dominion have known where to look for them?

  He squinted into the night, searching. “Dammit, I lost him.”

  Rachel swore in response. “The other one’s gone, too.”

  The four of them stood there, weapons ready, waiting, their eyes scanning the grassy landscape for any sign of the intruders. The two smears of black had just…vanished. Racath’s heart pounded in his ears….

  Nelle stiffened. She made a noise — a soft, near-silent psst! The other three looked at her. At her side, Nelle started making quick gestures with her fingers — hand signals Oron had taught them.

  Two of them, her hands said. Behind us. Above. Don’t react. Be ready.

  The intruders were above them, on the edge of the overhang. None of the Scorpions turned — better to let the enemy believe they still had the element of surprise — but they directed their attention backw
ard, searching with their ears.

  Racath could hear them. Two sets of lungs, breathing quietly as they perched above the Scorpions. He tensed, ready to turn and swing. He focused harder. A distinct scent reached his nostrils. A very…familiar scent. Like smoke, ash, sweat, steam, and iron. It was exactly the same smell that —

  “Stand down,” he commanded, sheathing Daragoian.

  The others looked at him in confusion. “What?” Rachel said.

  “Stand down,” Racath repeated. “They’re friendly.”

  Notak frowned. “What—”

  “No way!” The voice did not belong to any of the Scorpions. It came from behind them. “Racath, is that you?”

  All four of them turned to see the pair of silhouettes crouched on the rocky ledge of the overhang. “Come on down, you two,” Racath said, pulsing a flare of mage-fire into the fire pit, reigniting the wood within. The flame cast a hearty glow around the small cave.

  The intruders hopped down from the ledge, entering the fire’s circle of light. Now that they were no longer covered by night, it was obvious that both were dressed in hooded Genshwin Shadows. “Fancy meeting you here!” the shorter one said, drawing back her hood and letting her raven hair come free.

  Rachel looked confusedly from the dark-haired girl, to Racath. “What the hell is going on?”

  The taller intruder removed his hood as well. It was Toren, his signature claymore strapped to the back of his Shadow. “How’d you know it was us?”

  “I recognized your smell.”

  Toren made a silent oh, as though suddenly remembering. “Right, I forgot you could do that.”

  “You know these two?” Notak asked as he hesitantly redrew the lanac axe.

  “And on a different note,” Rachel said incredulously. “You can smell people?”

  Nelle nodded before Racath could answer. “Yep. He’s done it to me before, too.” Then, as though she were completely comfortable with the situation, she blithely sheathed her swords and sat down beside the fire.

  “What are you two doing out here?” Racath asked of Toren and Alexis.

  “What are you doing out here?” Alexis returned. “You’re supposed to be in Dor’mon.”

  Racath blinked at her, stymied.

  “What?” Alexis shrugged. “Don’t you know that?”

  “Of course I know that,” Racath said. “How do you know that? Wait…don’t tell me,” he answered his own question. “Mrak, right?”

  “Ahem,” Rachel interjected pointedly. “If you don’t mind me repeating myself, what the hell is going on?”

  Alexis crossed her arms, favoring Rachel with a distrustful glare. “I might ask the same thing.”

  “What are you two doing here?” Racath said again.

  “Mrak told us you were heading for Dor’mon for a big job of some kind,” Toren explained. “He wanted the two of us to meet up with you in the city.”

  “Great,” Rachel grumbled. “Mrak’s lapdogs. Wonderful.”

  “He didn’t mention you’d have company…” Alexis commented, jerking her chin at Rachel.

  “What for?” Racath demanded of Toren. Then his eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t trust me. Is that it? He sent you to chaperone me so that I don’t pull anything like Milonok again, right?”

  Alexis shuffled her feet.

  “Something like that,” Toren shrugged shamelessly. “We were supposed to find you in Dor’mon and stick with you. We were on our way out there when we saw your camp just a minute ago and thought we’d check it out. We had no idea you’d be out here.”

  “We’re still en route to the city,” Racath clarified.

  “Well, that’s convenient!” Toren said. “Now we can just tag along with you.”

  Rachel was instantly irate. “Oh, hell no!” she exclaimed, rounding on Racath. “Bringing the fortune-teller along was bad enough. No way in hell we’re letting two of Mrak’s babysitters nip at our heels, too.”

  Toren gave Rachel a curious look. “Wait…Rachel Vaveran?”

  Rachel favored him with a stony glare. “So I’m still remembered around Velik Tor? Funny. I don’t remember you at all.”

  “You’re supposed to be…dead.”

  “I aim to disappoint.”

  “And, um…” Alexis took a few cautious steps forward, trying to get a look at Notak’s grey face under his hood. “What is this?”

  Racath looked at everyone in turn. Notak was impassive, but the stiffness in his arms betrayed a subtle discomfort. Rachel was glaring at him with an expression that warned of an impending tantrum. Nelle sat by the fire, ignoring them, humming merrily to herself as she warmed her hands. Toren and Alexis seemed confused, at a loss in the face of Racath’s new companions.

  He frowned. The two of them had no idea, no clue about what was going on. He remembered what it felt like, to be completely in the dark about the Scorpions, the Demons, the Nineteen, the world. It wasn’t fair to them — they were Majiski, too. They deserved to know.

  He looked at Rachel. “We should read them in.”

  Rachel’s silver eyes flashed. “Hell! No!” she repeated emphatically. “No way are we going to just…read them in. And no way are we going to let them tag along!”

  A self-righteous indignation burned across Toren’s face. “I’m here under orders,” he told Rachel. “We were sent to stay with Racath, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

  Rachel brandished her hand at Toren. “You see? He’s a tool. Mrak’s tool. The last thing I want is that fauler’s errand boy following us around!”

  “I feel like I’m in missing something,” Alexis said crossly. “And I don’t like being out of the loop. Who are these people, Racath? Where have you been for the last few months? What’s so important about Dor’mon? What is it I don’t know about Mrak?” The questions poured out of her like a cascade of iron filings. Her green eyes were hard and steely. “Well, Racath? Are you gonna tell me, or are you just gonna stand there and keep your friends in the dark?”

  Damn her. She’d always known how to guilt him. Fidgeting, Racath looked at Nelle. “Augur?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Guidance would be good right now.”

  “Right! That’s my job isn’t it?” Nelle rolled back on her haunches and got to her feet. Clasping her hands behind her back, she went to Toren and Alexis. She made a show of searching them with her eyes, looking them up and down as she circled around them, a bounce in her step. The two of them stood their quietly, discomforted expressions on their faces as Nelle examined them.

  The girl with golden hair came to a stop in front of the two Genshwin. She looked each of them in the face, scrutinizing them each in turn. First Toren, then Alexis.

  “Hmm…” she mused again. “Uh huh…I’ve seen these two before. They’ve shown up in my dreams.”

  Rachel made a sound of exasperation. “Good God, here we go…”

  Nelle nodded. “Yes!” she said again, wheeling around on her heel to look at Racath. “We’ll need them. They’re important. Read ‘em in.”

  Rachel flushed a furious red, and shouted at Racath. “Are you crazy? You can’t just make that decision without thinking! They work for Mrak!”

  “All the more reason to give them the truth,” Racath rebutted. “I’m calling it. We’re reading them in.”

  Rachel seethed and opened her mouth to retort, but Notak put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Enough, Rachel.” The Elf spoke in a voice was soft, but Racath was certain that he could have commanded the mountain if he wanted to. “Enough. There will be no more argument. Racath has spoken — that is his right. Let it be.”

  Rachel seethed and shrugged his hand off her shoulder angrily, but did not speak again.

  “Alright then,” Racath said after an awkward silence. “Introductions.” He gestured to Toren and Rachel. “Everyone, this is Toren Valgance, a Genshwin Talon. He’s the one who brought me into the Genshwin when I was young. And this is Alexis Vylis, by far the best engineer, metal
lurgist, rotender, and chemist I’ve ever known — the Genshwin Mechanist.”

  Then he spoke to the two newcomers. “Toren, Alexis: this is Nelle Aritas, Demon-hunter, and the Jedan augur of the Fourth Age. This here is Rachel Vaveran, a Genshwin who, as you recall, left Velik Tor a few years back. And this…this is Notak et Sine Nominé, the last living Elf in Io. They…we…are the Scorpions.”

  Alexis and Toren’s jaws fell open simultaneously. “Uh…” Toren stammered. “The Scorpions? Like the Scorpions we used to make up stories about?”

  “That would be us,” Racath nodded.

  “I think you just created more questions than you answered…” Alexis muttered.

  “We’ll explain everything in a moment,” Racath placated her. “I promise. Here, sit down.”

  The two of them sat, as did Nelle.

  Rachel stood there, fists shaking, teeth grinding, then threw up her hands and stormed away from the overhang.

  “She’s quite the ray of sunshine…” Alexis muttered.

  “She will not go far,” Notak said. “I will go and talk with her. She will see reason in time.”

  Racath stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. “No. I’ll go. It needs to be me. I need to make her understand me and my decisions before she ends up permanently hating my guts. Besides, I need you to stay here. If there’s anyone who should tell this story, it’s probably you.”

  Notak’s grey skin paled a bit, and his stony mask slipped a little. “I…” he whispered. “I would rather not, if it is all the same to you.”

  “I’ll do it!” Nelle volunteered hurriedly.

  Racath frowned at Notak, curious and concerned. “…Alright. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “What exactly should I tell them?” Nelle asked from her spot by the fire.

  “Everything,” Racath answered. “The same lectures that Oron gave me during my first few days with you. The Neophany, the Perdition of the Arelim, the birth of the Genshwin, Thomas Menelaus and the Scorpions…Oron, you, Vae Valores Krilati, the new Scorpions, the Nineteen, Baron Monger, Brahn. You know. Everything.”