The Blighted City (The Fractured Tapestry)

by Scott Kaelen

  Demelza looked uncertain.

  “There are temples within the Arkh,” Jalis went on, and Oriken wondered how much of her chatter was to distract herself from facing her feelings. “When I was a girl in Sardaya, younger than you are now, I lived near such a temple. I used to go there and talk to the girls and the women.” She smiled in remembrance, though it did nothing to diminish the grief in her eyes. “I admit I went there to see the Ashcloaks as well, the strapping temple guards. I was a little envious of the girls’ skills, and of the beautiful temple they lived in.”

  “It sounds nice.” Demelza untucked her legs from beneath her and stretched them out along the grass, leaning back on her hands. “What’s the Arkh? And what’s a Saddier?”

  “Sar-da-ya,” Jalis corrected, inflecting the correct syllable. “It’s a land, like Himaera. But there’s plenty of time to tell you all about these things on the road ahead. Demelza—”

  “Waynan called me Dee,” the girl blurted out. “It reminds me of deer. I like deer.”

  Jalis blinked. “Well, if that’s what you like, then Dee it is.”

  “I think I’d like to see a temple, too.”

  “I’m sure I can arrange it…” Jalis’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’ll take you to Brancosi Bay; I could organise an escort to accompany you across to Vorinsia, where you would meet the Ashcloaks in the capital. I think our newest member, Leaf, would like the job of taking you. She’s only a couple of years older than you. You’ll like her.”

  A sudden rustling in the nearby underbrush caused Oriken to glance sharply and reach for the loaded crossbow, but Jalis was quicker. She snatched the weapon and eased the string into place, rising fluidly to a crouch and stepping lightly towards the thatch of shrubs. She squeezed the trigger, and an instant later the bushes shook and an animal screech issued forth. A young nargut crawled into the open, the crossbow bolt jutting from its lower back. Pulling Silverspire from its sheath at her hip, she dashed forward and quickly put an end to the creature’s misery.

  “Orik,” she called. “I promised I’d catch you a nargut.”

  “As a pet, you said.”

  “Half a promise fulfilled is better than none at all. Would you rather a pet or a full belly right now?”

  Oriken gave no reply, but climbed to his feet and trudged off to gather firewood while Jalis dragged the nargut across to prepare it for eating. When the fire was built, Oriken reached into his pocket for the heat lens but paused as he caught Demelza looking at him. With a shrug, he motioned for her to get on with it, then sat down to help Jalis cut the nargut flesh into shanks.

  The roasted meat melted his hunger. With the meal finished, he scrubbed the skin and cut it into thick strips which he wrapped around the grip of the blade Ammenfar and its scabbard.

  The sky to the east deepened to evening blue, while to the west the sun hunkered down upon the watery horizon. The camp was quiet, with Demelza sorting through her scant belongings in her satchel while Jalis occupied herself with studying the jewel. Oriken had replayed the entire events of the previous week over and over in his mind, from venturing into the Chiddari crypt to Dagra’s final words. He recalled the first clues that something was amiss – the scuff marks in the dust that led only outwards from the crypt.

  God’s fearing fool you might have been, Dag, but sometimes you were right. I reckon it was more than just your imagination at play down in that crypt. I should’ve recognised the signs for myself, should’ve connected them to the legend; the legend that even you never paid enough mind to. Maybe if I’d been more attentive I might’ve prevented everything. He shook his head; thinking that way would do no good. I never put much stock in any of your gods, Dag, but still, I hope I’m wrong and you were right. I hope we meet again, you stupid, stumpy little bearded bastard.

  He caught Jalis regarding him with a sideways glance. He half-turned so she wouldn’t notice the dampness that threatened to spill from his eyes.

  The sun winked out into the water. The shadows of evening deepened, and he considered Lachyla’s story.

  It scared me as a young boy, he thought. And I scoffed at it as I became a man. But I’m not laughing now. I’ve seen the city uncloaked and unmasked, in all its horror and beauty. Taleweavers be damned, the truth of Lachyla goes far beyond its legend.

  “I’d like to sleep now,” Demelza announced. With the grace of adolescence, she grabbed her satchel and sprang to her feet.

  “Take a blanket.” Jalis pointed to their pile of gear stacked at the base of a lone gawek tree a short distance away.

  The girl gave a nod of gratitude and trotted over to scoop a blanket into her arms, then wandered over to the edge of the ridge overhanging the beach. She jumped over the edge and disappeared, landing silently upon the soft sand below.

  “She’s off into that little cave she scouted earlier,” Jalis said quietly. “She’s accustomed to living alone, and probably needs her space. Oriken?”

  “I’m listening. I’m just not in a talkative mood right now.”

  “I understand.”

  He cleared his throat. “I picked up that bloodstone, you know?”

  “Which bloodstone?”

  “The one Dagra threw away when I was making a fuss about taking more gems.” He pulled it from his pocket and showed her the smooth, dark green oval, rubbing a thumb across the red speckles. “I meant to hand it to him on our way home, as an apology, I guess.”

  Jalis frowned. “So why didn’t you?”

  “For some reason, a piddling little thing like that seemed to slip my mind.” He drew a breath and looked out at the ocean.

  After a minute, Jalis said, “I almost don’t want to complete the contract. We’ve got the jewel, but it just seems… I don’t know.”

  “We finish it,” he said. “And we collect our earnings. Then we continue.”

  Jalis gave a serene nod. “Retrieve, return, report,” she muttered, quoting the expression of the guild.

  “And relax,” he finished. That was the way of it. Get the job done, then forget about it. Move on. Leave your losses behind.

  “Before we met you and Maros,” he said, “me and Dag were out there on our own for a few years. You and I still have each other, Jalis. And we still have Maros, and Henwyn, Alari, and the others.” He managed a tight smile. “The Mountain makes as good a tavernmaster as he ever made a freeblade.”

  “He is still a freeblade.”

  “As Official? He’s an overseer, a peddler of sellswords with a set of rules.”

  “He nearly died last year from that wound to his leg.”

  “But he didn’t die.”

  “What if…” Jalis shook her head and looked across the heath. “What if he had, though? And what if you or I—”

  “It’s not going to happen.” Touching his fingertips to her chin, he gently turned her to look at him. “I promise.”

  She blinked and a tear ran down her cheek, but she held his gaze. Something new passed between them then, though whether for better or worse, Oriken couldn’t tell.

  They carried their belongings down a trail that led from the tip of a long strip of firs to a cove secreted beneath the ridge, a hundred yards from the cave where Demelza slept. The base of the jutting outcrop sheltered them from the wind that now swept across the heath, while the breeze coming in from the ocean was warm and gentle. The sky was peppered with swathes of stars, and high overhead Haleth shone full and bright, her reflection shimmering in the black waters.

  The lapping of the tide blended with the undulating buzz of night insects as Jalis stripped from her clothes, padded across the beach and waded into the water until it lapped at her thighs. Oriken lay on a blanket and leaned on his elbow, watching her in the moonlight. She moved in deeper and dipped beneath the waves, while within the firs a nightjar chirred a lonely lament. Moments later, she re-emerged and as she turned to face him, the light of the moon glistening over her wet skin. Even through the haze of his emotions, the sight of her managed to fire hi
s blood.

  We carry on, he thought. For Dagra, and for us. I can get through this. The tears came then, and a quiet sob gasped unchecked from his lips.

  He sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, sighing as the tightness in his shoulder protested. When he looked again, Jalis was swimming further out, her head bobbing amongst the silver ripples. He removed his breeches and wandered across the sand, scarcely noticing the chill as he entered the water and waded out until it sloshed around his chest. A larger wave approached and washed over his head, giving the tears their chance to run unseen. Time crawled by as he stood gazing out across the rolling tide, his eyes on Jalis’s head as she glided through the water. Finally she swam closer and circled behind him. When he turned, she was stood inches away, the listless waves lapping at the tops of her breasts.

  “It will be okay, Orik,” she said in scarcely more than a whisper, placing a hand upon his chest.

  He nodded, and she drifted closer. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his. He held her tightly, lowered his face to her wet hair, and sobbed.

  After she returned to their bedding and belongings, he stayed in the water for long minutes and watched her within the shadows of the embankment, standing upon the sparse grass and towelling herself dry. As he stepped out of the water, she paused and watched him approach, a curious look on her face as if in serious contemplation. He reached her and stepped close, and she looked up at him.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  Her eyes dipped from his and trailed down his body. The casual scrutiny stirred a reaction that he could not hide. Her lips parted, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as she drew in a breath and released it.

  “Jalis—”

  She looked up to meet his gaze. Her eyes glinted with more than just the light of the moon and stars. Her fingers touched his chest, then her warm palm. “I can feel your heart beating,” she whispered.

  Her other hand touched his waist, slid down onto his thigh, then across. She took another small step closer until the tips of her breasts touched his skin. Between them, her hand closed around him, her fingers squeezing with growing need. The pounding of his heart seemed to thump throughout his whole body. He opened his mouth but could find no words.

  Her eyes strayed down to watch as he swelled in her grasp, responding to her eager touch. “This is what you want,” she said, her voice husky. “This is what you've always wanted.”

  “I… Yes,” he faltered. “But—”

  “Shush now.” She released him and placed a finger to his lips.

  Is this happening? Surely this isn’t real…

  She took him by the shoulders and pulled him down with her to the blankets. Again her hand reached for him, this time with more urgency, while her other dipped between her thighs and a short gasp escaped her.

  “Jalis, I—”

  “Don't you dare.” Her voice was thick with animal need like he'd never heard before. “You do this,” she said, “and you do it now.” She pulled him close, guided him into her. He hesitated, and her eyes narrowed. “For the stars’ sake, Oriken, fuck me!”

  He blinked, nodded. She clasped her legs around him and pulled his hips onto hers, and, for a while, Oriken forgot everything else.

  Afterwards he lay staring up into the midnight sky, Jalis's leg strewn across his middle with his hand rested upon her thigh. All the while, a quiet storm flooded his mind – the memory of their lovemaking juxtaposed with images of Dagra, and of dead things, and Krea, here in this moment between all they had endured and what was to come.

  “You know,” he said quietly, “for all the horrors in this world, for all the senseless losses and atrocities, the firmament above us is a painting of innocence. The stars and the moons – all those lights are untouchable, unknowable. Sometimes I imagine myself soaring like a dawnhawk through that celestial sphere. For every horror down here, be it corpse or cravant, monster or man, there’s a twinkling beauty out of reach up there.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw her looking up into the sky. “Look there,” she said, and he followed her finger to a thin silver line as it sliced its way slowly down and across the sky. “Some would say that’s Dagra, on his journey to the Underland to be reborn.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Some would say that.”

  They lay in silence until Jalis said, “I can't do this again.”

  He turned to her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the stars. A sinking feeling washed over him, like a keepsake spilling from between his fingers to fall into deep waters, and all he could do was watch helplessly as it drifted from sight.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “No, you don’t.” She placed her hand upon his. “I don’t mean this. I mean I can't continue the freeblade lifestyle.” Drawing a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “I've been in the guild for over twelve years, more than twice as long as you and… and Dagra. With Maros, the four of us were invincible, then we lost him last year when he hung his blades up. Now Dagra's gone, not crippled by a monster or defeated by a bunch of bandits, not even slain by a horde of undead, but fallen to a trifling thing that caught him in a moment, and none of us noticed.”

  He turned his face back to the night sky. Kheyron’s Soul, the brightest star, seemed tonight to shine twice as bright as ever. He pressed his lips together and turned his attention to the constellation of the Galloping Lady, her reaching limbs eternally frozen in mid-movement.

  “What comes next?” Jalis asked. “When might I lose you, too? Or will it be my turn next? I'm hanging my blades up when we return to the Folly. I just… I can't…”

  He closed his eyes. “I understand,” he repeated, and this time it meant so much more.

  The next morning, he awoke to the sound of the tide as it swept across the sand. Jalis stirred beneath his arm, and he lifted his head to see Demelza wandering along the beach, the water cascading over her feet as it rushed across the sand and fell away.

  Jalis rolled against him and smiled sleepily. “Good morning.”

  He returned the smile. “I hope so.”

  They ate a bland but filling breakfast of berries and leftover nargut meat before packing their gear and resuming the journey home, heading inland towards the marsh crossing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  DEE AND THE ORC KING

  The wetlands stretched endlessly to the east with only the occasional twisted gawek tree to break the flatness of the reed-studded vista. With Jalis at her side, Demelza ambled along the wide pass, squinting as the afternoon sun flashed from the handle of the sword at the Orc King’s hip a short distance ahead. O-ri-ken, she corrected. A desire to pay closer attention to the names of people and things had been instilled in her by Jalis’s patience and teaching. Jalis’s name was easy now that she’d explained it to her. Some names were easy, like Adri’s. A small pang of regret fluttered in her belly as she thought of the home she’d left behind.

  Except only Adri and Waynan – Wayland – and a few others liked me in the village, she thought miserably. Some o’ the men said they liked me, but that were only so they could come to Ma Ina’s home and… She shook her head and glanced at Jalis, then looked away with a smile. She likes me.

  Since leaving the cove, Demelza had spotted Jalis looking at her several times but quickly turning away. No, she thought. It’s the other way round. It’s her catching me looking. With a sigh, she glanced at Jalis now, but her new friend’s eyes were on the way ahead.

  “There’s something on your mind, Dee,” Jalis said. “You can talk to me.”

  Demelza gasped. “I…” She lowered her gaze to the grass.

  “Go on,” Jalis prompted.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “It were my fault. It were all my fault. If I hadn’t told on yous—”

  “You did what you thought you had to do, which, I expect, I might also have done were I in your shoes.”

  “You don’t like my shoes?”

  Jal
is laughed. “Your shoes are wonderful, but we will get you a brand new pair when we reach our home. What I mean is, you lived in a secluded village far from the rest of the world, so how could you know that such a peaceful place would send hunters to kill us?”

  “I should'a known, though,” Demelza said miserably. “The skulls on the oak…”

  Oriken whirled around. “What skulls?”

  Demelza stopped. She grabbed Jalis’s arm and pressed up against her. “The skulls,” she muttered. “Of the three. On the Founding Oak.”

  Oriken frowned at her. “The three what?”

  “The three what was caught. Back in me mam’s mam’s mam’s mam’s time. Me real mam, I mean, not Ina. They caught ‘em and put their skulls on the tree. Um. Their heads, I mean.”

  “Sabrian’s friends,” Oriken said. “Poor bastards. That could’ve been us.”

  “No! Adri would never do such a thing. She… she sweared it.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Jalis motioned for Oriken to continue walking. “They didn’t kill any of us. They wanted to. They tried. Tell me, Dee, why did you run away from your village? And why come to us rather than going your own way?”

  The girl shrugged. “Not many liked me in the Beck. Most hated me. Eri most of all. Said I were a fool girl, good for nothin’. Lots said that, even afore Ma Ina died. It weren’t home after that.”

  “And you thought that wherever we’re headed might be a nicer place to live?”

  Demelza shook her head, then frowned. “You was kinder to me than any ‘cept Way… Wayland… when you oughtn’t have been.”

  Jalis grinned and wiped a fingertip beneath the corner of her eye. Glancing at Oriken’s back, she said, “Do you like Orik, too?”

  “I dunno.” Demelza shrugged as she watched the tall man stride onwards. “Maybe.”

  Jalis chuckled. Demelza frowned, and her new friend laughed harder. Demelza laughed too. It felt good.