“Shaper’s fire.”
“If you’re still here to talk of it, I’m guessing the Shaper didn’t come away unscathed.” Suddenly, Rem made the connection: “Cindor!” he said.
Kittins stood up, began to pace. “Aye, Cindor. And the fact his name comes so easily to your tongue tells me something, too.”
Rem didn’t have the energy to hold up his end of the conversation. Besides, it was better if the captain guessed at his mission than confessing it of his own volition.
“You’re the spy, and Cindor sent you. Question is, why you?” Kittins sneered at the actor, or it might have been a smile. With that face, it was hard to tell. “You’re hardly a match for me in combat, are you? How are you supposed to deal with me if things go south?”
Rem grunted. So much for staying silent. “Cindor says he’ll be checking in on me from time to time. You probably shouldn’t spend too much time in my presence.”
Kittins laughed. “On the contrary. Might be you’re just the cheese I need to catch a rat.”
~ SEVEN ~
The Giants & Nelby, In the Forest
“Can you save her?”
“I think we can, my little friends and me.”
Eoman watched the will-o-wisps circling the woman’s head. Occasionally, one or two would break off and hover over her chest or loop down around her legs. It made no sense to the king of the giants, but he was afraid to say so aloud, lest he anger the very creatures he now depended upon.
“Well, how does she look to you? Improving?”
Karrakan flexed his hands and cracked his knuckles. “I can see now why you’ve got no lady wife: all this questioning’s enough to drive anyone mad.”
“But you heard her, ‘Kan. She said Mardine’s name.”
“Could be. Maybe.”
Eoman was adamant. “No maybe about it. She said ‘Mardine.”
“Good and fine. But if she comes ‘round, she’ll still be starving half to death. We’d best rekindle that fire and fix her a bowl of something hot,” Karrakan said. “And, as it happens, I have just the thing.” He reached into his shoulder bag, rummaged around briefly, and came out with a handful of dried herbs and a small brownish lump of something possessed of a wonderful, meaty aroma. “Have you got your boilin’ bag on you?”
“I do,” Eoman answered sheepishly. “Been using it to pad my britches o’ nights.”
“I bet that’ll prove right flavorful,” Karrakan cracked. “Now, fill it with snow and put it on those hot rocks there.”
The king lifted several layers of animal hide and cloth and pulled the bag from the back of his pants. It was made of a curious material whose origins had been lost to time, but which, when filled with liquid, could be set on a fire to boil without burning through. In little time, Karrakan had a wonderful broth simmering, while Eoman turned his attention to the human woman. He felt her forehead, tapped ever so lightly on her cheeks, and fussed over her every breath. Eventually, Karrakan’s broth was ready. He produced a heel of bread from somewhere, dipped the end in the hot liquid, and carried it to the woman’s side.
“How do you expect her to chew if she’s not conscious?”
“I don’t,” said Karrakan. “I’m going to drip some of this broth into her mouth.” He knelt down in the snow and touched the bread to his patient’s lips, and she responded almost immediately, mouthing the crust as if she would eat.
“Easy now,” the giant urged. “There’s no hurry.”
Finally, the woman’s eyes opened.
Eoman could not restrain himself. “You said a name: ‘Mardine.’ What do you know of her?”
“Easy now. There’s no hurry,” Karrakan repeated in Eoman’s direction. “I meant it for her, but I see it’s needful you both hear me. Nobody’s going anywhere tonight, so let’s allow the girl to get some strength back.”
The king plunked himself down beside his friend and chewed on his upper lip. It was as close to a pout as he dared go without risking the loss of all dignity. As Karrakan continued to minister to his patient, Eoman grabbed a stick from the kindling pile and proceeded to break it into smaller and smaller sections, until there wasn’t a piece left that was large enough for picking teeth. Karrakan inwardly chuckled at his friend’s nervous energy: same old Eoman.
Now, the young woman was slurping the broth out of a bowl Karrakan had found amongst the king’s possessions. Eoman wanted to complain, but…his friend’s magic was clearly working. At last, Eoman deemed that he’d waited long enough and spoke to the woman again. As he did, she seemed to see him for the first time, and her expression became a lamentable mixture of fear, hope, and awe. And then she began to cry.
“I did suggest waiting…” Karrakan began.
“And I’m ignoring you,” his king replied. “Now, woman, you spoke the name of one of my people. Tell me why.”
The woman struggled to sit up, until Karrakan gave her a hand, gently moving her closer to the fire and wrapping a fur around her shoulders. “What are you called?” he asked the woman.
“Nelby, and it please you.”
“Nelby,” said Karrakan pensively, as if he were trying to remember the lyrics to an epic ballad.
“Nelby,” Eoman cut in. “Tell me about Mardine.”
Again, Nelby exploded into tears.
Eoman threw his chin at the sky and exhaled loudly in frustration. Seeing that nothing coherent was going to come from the woman in the near future, the king of the giants turned and stalked off into the trees to collect more firewood. When he returned, he found Nelby sitting in Karrakan’s lap like a child, dazzled by the shaman’s will-‘o-wisps. This time, Eoman simply sat nearby and waited. To his surprise, Nelby began to talk, although her eyes were now focused on the fire.
“I was her nanny,” she began. “Not Mardine’s, but her daughter’s. Esmine’s. We…we lived on an apple farm. It was just the three of us, since Mardine’s man was away on business. Royal business, as I understood.” She fell silent for a while, gathering her resolve, and then continued, “This fellow came around. I thought maybe…maybe he fancied me. Stupid, I know. So terribly, terribly stupid. Anyway, one day, he catches me off guard and threatens to kill me and Esmine if we don’t cooperate. I didn’t want…I couldn’t…well, he makes me help him poison Mardine, and when she passes out, he and his bitch bundle us out the door and off into the forest.” Nelby took such a lengthy pause that Eoman thought she’d finished.
“That doesn’t explain how I found Mardine,” he challenged gruffly.
Nelby resumed crying, but continued her tale as well. “This fellow I mentioned? He wanted to get his hands on Esmine, on account of her bein’ half giant…”
Eoman started. “Half?”
“Well…her da, Long Pete, he’s just a man.”
The king leapt to his feet, too agitated to remain seated. “A man? A man? How is that possible?”
Karrakan raised his hands, as if to say “Don’t ask me!” Even his will-‘o-wisps appeared confused, but their presence gave Eoman an idea.
“Magic,” said he. “It can only be magic.” Then, to Nelby, “Continue.”
“Mardine followed us, came lookin’ for her daughter. The kidnappers figured she might and set a trap for her. They hurt her and captured her. When she broke free and tried to rescue her babe, they killed her.” Nelby drew a long, shuddering breath, as folks will do after a good cry. “Not much to tell after that. Esmine and me, we were locked in a cage atop a wagon, where we froze and starved and knew never a moment’s peace nor comfort. We busted out, made a run for it, and then…and then…that’s all I know.”
“I don’t believe those oursine would have offered this girl to us if they’d taken the child. They can be ornery brutes, but they’re not stupid,” Karrakan said.
Eoman grimaced. “Then she’s still out there, somewhere. You willing to carry this woman a while?”
“Do you mean to resume the hunt this moment?”
“I do.”
As ge
ntly as possible, Karrakan scooped Nelby into his arms. “Douse that fire, pick up your boiling bag, and let’s go.” He looked down into the human woman’s face and thought he spied hope. He wished he shared the feeling.
*****
Innoman & Esmine, In the Forest
The pile of boulders might have been enormous blocks of ice for all the warmth they provided. They did keep the oursine at bay, though, and that was good enough for Innoman. The creatures could neither move the massive stones nor squeeze their bodies between them to reach him and his captive. Eventually, they lost interest and wandered off in search of easier prey.
Innoman hunkered down onto his haunches and glared at Esmine in her meager bundle of blankets and rags. If he was expecting her to look away, he was sorely disappointed, for the child met his gaze as if she were studying an ant crawling along her arm.
“Tough one, are you?” Innoman prodded. “Well, you’ll have to be. Your friend’s thrown us right in the shit – lost, no food, no fire and no help. And where is she now? Probably in some oursa’s belly.”
Esmine blinked, pulled her blankets tighter.
“You’ve survived this long; I guess the cold don’t get to you, eh?” Innoman stood. “But I’ve gotta find a way to make fire, or you’ll be alone before too long.” The slaver surveyed the walls of his stone sanctuary. It was almost a cave, really, with just a bit of sky visible through a gap in the boulders. “A man could get by in here, if he had a bit of food, water and warmth. Place isn’t so bad. Anyways, I’ve seen worse.”
Esmine yawned and rolled onto her side, clearly seconds from falling asleep.
Innoman became frustrated. “Are you unaware,” he snapped, “that we might not live to see the morning?” To his continued annoyance, Esmine said nothing. “Well, damned if I’m gonna freeze to death on your account, girl. Push over and share some o’ those rags with me. We’re not leaving ‘til I’m certain those beasts are gone.”
Now, Esmine was wide awake. She didn’t like this strange man, this enemy, pressing himself against her. He would forever be part of the group that killed her mother and, for all Esmine knew, her nanny as well. What if he meant to kill her next? No, the cold did not bother her as much as it did others, but she began shivering nonetheless, shivering with fear. The mere touch of the man’s skin against hers made Esmine want to vomit.
An eternity later, she heard him snoring into her neck, his drool running down her shoulder. She could hardly contain her revulsion. Yet, the man was asleep, and he couldn’t hurt her as long as he slept. Esmine wondered if she could make him sleep forever.
*****
Long & Company, Underground
Whatever it was they’d tumbled into, it was undeniably vast, and its countless passageways or streets crawled off into a darkness so complete that it seemed possible they’d reached the very borders of the world. Were it not for the sorcerous light Spirk had conjured on the end of an arrow, Long and his fellows might have lacked the courage to leave their fire. As it was, each feared to break the oppressive silence with speech. Who knew what lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce at the first disturbance?
In some places, it was hard to determine if the walls were walls, or instead the sides of buildings. Broad archways periodically opened on either side, but Long seemed content to keep the group on its initial path, and no one was inclined to argue. The ceiling, if there was a ceiling, was so far overhead that Long despaired of ever finding a way out in that direction.
Spirits sagging, they trudged onward, dragging Yendor’s litter behind them. In time, they came to an immense open space, octagonal in shape, which seemed to have once been a hub of activity. The rectangular ghosts of kiosks marked or marred the carefully tiled floor, such that every man in the group recognized straight away where they were.
“It’s a market!” Spirk exclaimed.
“Was,” said Long.
The kiosks had long since been removed or disintegrated into dust.
Yendor endeavored to sit up and groaned terribly. When he was himself again – or as close as a one-eyed cripple could be – he said, “If this was a market, there’s bound to be storage nearby. Might be there’s somethin’ left somewheres.”
Long frowned. “That’s what worries me.” He scanned the plaza and kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Something or someone.” Seeing he’d put a good and necessary scare into the younger men, he continued. “Let’s scout the perimeter o’ this place. Find out what we’re dealin’ with. But…uh…keep an arrow nocked, eh, Ron? And Spirk, be ready to do whatever it is you do.”
“How are they gonna do that if they’re dragging me about?” Yendor complained.
“A good question,” Long responded. “An excellent question.”
Yendor must’ve heard something in his old friend’s voice, because he instantly objected. “Oh, no!” said he. “You’re not leavin’ me alone whilst you go gallivantin’ about in the dark.”
The captain shook his head, ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Well, dammit it all, Yendor. What would you have me do?”
“The two of us can scout it,” Ron offered, referring to himself and Spirk.
Yendor looked hopefully at his captain.
“Fine,” said Long, resentment clear in his voice. “But you scamper back here at the first sign o’ trouble. And can you put some light on something for us, too?”
Spirk appeared baffled by the request, but he obligingly touched the point of his glowing arrow to the hilt of Long’s sword and the weapon began glowing with a warm, yellow-orange radiance.
“How do you do that?” Long asked, amazed.
“Beats me.”
The young men shuffled off into the space, the light from Spirk’s arrow getting smaller and smaller as they receded into the darkness. The echoing of their footsteps unexpectedly took on the quality of a heavy rain or the bubbling of a brook, and then that, too, grew softer and softer until it was no longer audible.
Long hunkered down beside his friend and placed the sword between them. “I never would’ve figured Spirk for a Shaper.”
“Funny old world.”
“How are you holdin’ up?”
“I’d laugh, but it might kill me.”
“I’m tempted to start tellin’ jokes.”
Yendor did laugh then, before gritting his teeth and whimpering in pain. “Fucker,” said he.
“That’s me,” said Long sadly.
“Who d’you think that is?” Ron wondered aloud.
“Um…Alheria?”
The young men stood at the base of a gigantic head, a sculpture of a woman that rose from the flagstones to several times the height of a man. Her open mouth formed a doorway, which was reached by steps climbing from the floor, up her chin and over her lower lip.
“Should we see if that door’s unlocked?”
“Not by ourselves,” said Ron. “Best to bring Long and Yendor back here.”
Spirk envied his friend’s common sense. It was, to him, as elusive and mysterious as his own magic was to others. “I s’pose yer right,” he agreed.
“Not so cold down here as it is up top,” Long said, making conversation to keep his worries at bay.
“Cold enough.”
“Aye.” Pause. “But what about that young Shaper, now? He seems to be growin’ stronger every day.”
“’Magine what ‘e could do with some trainin’,” Yendor grunted.
“If he’s right about this Pellas thing, this legacy, might be he won’t need training. Might be it’s instinctive.” Just as Long finished that thought, the Shaper in question reappeared, with his friend in tow. “You finish your scoutin’ already?”
“Nah,” Spirk called out, “we just found something you hafta see.”
Yendor rolled his lone eye at Long. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
“Alright,” Long told Spirk. “But you and Ron’ll have to drag this surly bastard along. I’m not touchin’ him.”
That they obeyed the captai
n without qualm or hesitation continued to astound and humble him. What had he done that they should trust him? Why would anyone trust him? Hadn’t he, in fact, about ruined the lives of everyone who dared to associate with him? Long ground his teeth. Was he doomed to bully and abuse himself forever?
He needed to get himself and his crew out of this hole and resume his hunt for Esmine.
Before he realized it, he and his fellows had reached their destination, the huge stone head Spirk and Ron had found earlier. The first sight of it gave Long a strange, visceral thrill he couldn’t identify. Had he seen this thing or some variation of it before? He looked over at his companions and saw they were all watching him, awaiting his impressions. He held his still-glowing sword at arm’s length over his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sculpture’s entirety, but the top of its head, like everything else in the Mahnus-cursed place, stretched up into the gloom.
“Well?” Yendor asked impatiently.
“Well what?” Long retorted. “It’s big.”
“Even a one-eyed man can see that!”
“Is it Alheria?” said Spirk.
No, kid, Long thought. This ain’t Alheria. But how could he know that? Why did he feel so certain? “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Could be.”
“Should we try the door?” Spirk, again.
Long shook his head no. “I’ll do it.”
“But if you get hurt…”
“I said I’ll do it!” the captain snapped a little too harshly. The looks on his friends’ faces told him he’d gone too far. “Look,” he said, “I can’t be always puttin’ others in harm’s way. You boys have been through the shit on my behalf. Least I can do is step up once in a while. You wouldn’t be where you are if it weren’t for me.”
“I wouldn’t be who I am, either,” Spirk reminded him. “I think I’ve gotten better since I met you.”
Long knew that was soulfully meant, but he couldn’t help feeling worse for it. “Still, let me…let me do this on my own. I’ll be fine.”
Corpse Cold (Immortal Treachery Book 3) Page 22