The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel

by Laura Resnick

  Gideon took Chandra’s arm. “Come on.”

  Moving fast, they followed Jurl into the bushes. The thundering hoof beats were already much closer. As the three of them crouched down low behind the bushes’ naked branches, Chandra was grateful for the dark. These shrubs were thick, even without leaves, but she knew that she and her companions would be visible in the light of day.

  She leaned forward and looked off to the left, past Gideon, where the hoof beats were coming from. As she swayed slightly in that direction, unsteady in her crouching position, her shoulder came into contact with Gideon’s.

  He turned toward her. It was too dark to see his expression, but she could see his eyes looking directly into hers. Neither spoke. Then he, too, looked in the direction of the approaching riders.

  Chandra heard a sharp whinny as the galloping horses entered the grove. Peering into the darkness, Chandra could see them faintly now. Fortunately, they weren’t coming this way. They passed through the withered grove at some distance from where they crouched in the bushes, moving diagonally away. She counted three riders … No, four, she realized, as they galloped into a pool of moonlight.

  They were racing through a dense, low cloud of fog …

  No, she realized a moment later, the fog moved with them, surrounding them and traveling in their company, flowing swiftly across the landscape. It made the horses look as if they were running atop a shifting white cloud, galloping through the air rather than on the ground. Yet their hooves must be touching soil, because they made a sound louder than thunder.

  Watching this spectacle, Chandra felt chilled. The horses were all dark, and they galloped through the night with heedless speed. Perhaps, like Jurl, their eyes were well accustomed to this perpetual night. Or perhaps, she thought, as she watched the fog move with them, they didn’t really need to see where they were going.

  The lead horse appeared to be carrying two riders, one of whom was struggling, seemingly held captive by the other. She saw pale limbs fighting for freedom and dark-clad arms restraining them. Chandra thought she could hear a terrified wailing as the horses galloped out of sight. A few moments later, the sound of the riders had faded completely.

  Now she heard only the pounding of her heart and Gideon’s rapid breathing.

  “What was that?” she asked Jurl.

  “Fog Riders.”

  “Good name,” she muttered.

  “Who are they?” Gideon’s voice was low. His body, so close to Chandra’s, was still tense. “What are they doing?”

  “Someone run away,” Jurl said. “They find. Bring back.”

  “Back where?” Chandra asked.

  “Velrav Castle.”

  She listened to Gideon’s breathing and knew they were both thinking about the captive on that horse.

  After a long moment, Gideon said, “Let’s keep moving.”

  “Fog Riders, bad,” Jurl said with feeling.

  “Yes, I think we grasped that.” Gideon rose to his feet and turned to help Chandra extract herself from the clinging arms of the thicket.

  Something tugged on her hair. She winced as she pulled against it.

  “Wait,” Gideon said softly. He reached out to untangle her hair from a slender branch. Then he smoothed the rescued strand over her shoulder. “There.”

  “Thanks.”

  Feeling somber and sickened after what she had just witnessed, Chandra turned in the direction they had been heading before hearing the Fog Riders. Jurl grumbled a bit, but then he did the same. Gideon seemed preoccupied and didn’t even bother tugging on the goblin’s makeshift leash to get him to pick up his heel-dragging pace.

  After a few moments walking in silence, Jurl nodded. “Village, near. You walk first,” the goblin said.

  “Why?” Gideon asked suspiciously.

  “Not like goblin,” Jurl explained, nodding in the direction of the village.

  “What a mystery.” Chandra said to Gideon, “I’ll walk ahead. You keep a tight hold of his leash. If anything happens to me, cut off his hands.” She added, “Did you hear that, Jurl?”

  “Yes.” He sounded morose.

  Chandra moved past Jurl and walked ahead of him. Within moments, she saw a thatched hut. Then several others. They were part of a small village, nestled in the side of a hill and bathed in moonlight. It looked like there were about twenty dwellings here.

  As she drew closer, she saw several people standing in the doorways of their huts, peering at her. By the time she reached the first few huts, she heard gasps and excited voices exchanging muffled comments. People were coming out of their huts and standing in the moonlight.

  She thought at first that the gasps and the excitement were because of the goblin entering the village. But then she realized, as she stood surrounded by people, that they were all staring at her. And she thought she could guess why.

  Although no one here looked like Gideon—they were too frail and hollow-eyed to resemble him—they had similar coloring: dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin. As Chandra looked around at the dozens of people who were emerging from their huts and gathering to stare at her, she saw, even in the light of the moon, that she was the only redhead present. Perhaps the only redhead they had ever seen.

  “Hello,” Chandra said, looking around at the gathering crowd. “We’ve come to speak to the wise woman.”

  A young woman, a girl by some standards, stepped forward, separating herself from the crowd. She approached Chandra hesitantly, and slowly reached out a hand to touch her red hair.

  Her voice was soft and shy as she said, “You’re so beautiful!”

  “Thank you,” said Chandra.

  Behind her, Jurl said, “Wise woman.”

  “My name is Gideon. We’d like to speak with the wise woman.”

  The girl said, “You’re welcome here.”

  Gideon said, “Thank you.”

  Jurl said, “Wise woman.”

  “Yes,” Chandra said, “if someone would tell the wise woman we’ve come to see her? It’s important.”

  Sounding impatient now, Jurl repeated, “Wise woman.”

  “Oh.” Gideon said, “Chandra…”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “I think I understand.” Chandra looked at the girl standing before her. “You’re the wise woman?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Yes, I am the village menarch. Why have you come to see me?”

  The wise woman told them her name was Falia, and she led them to a hut where they could sit and talk.

  As they entered the doorway of the small thatched hut, Jurl hung back, tugging a little on his leash.

  “Free Jurl,” he insisted.

  “So you can attack us again?” said Chandra. “And trade us to your hungry prince in exchange for goblin goodies? No.”

  “Jurl bring here. Now set free.” The goblin added with reproach, “You promise.”

  “No,” said Gideon, “I promised I wouldn’t kill you if you brought us here. Freeing you is a whole different subject.”

  Jurl snarled in outrage.

  Looking bored, Gideon tugged the leash sharply.

  Jurl gasped in pain, went silent, and trudged into the hut with them. The interior was lighted by short, thick candles.

  “Sit in the corner and be quiet,” Gideon told the goblin.

  Jurl’s gaze searched the round hut. “No corner.”

  Gideon sighed. “Sit out of the way.”

  “Hungry,” Jurl said sullenly.

  The wise woman said in her soft, high voice, “We can provide food and drink for all of you.”

  “What food?” Jurl asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Oh, don’t pretend you’re fussy,” Chandra said.

  “Thank you,” Gideon said to Falia. “Whatever you offer us will be much appreciated.”

  The girl’s gaze traveled over Chandra’s bloodied, smeared appearance, the mud on Gideon’s clothes, and his darkening jaw. “It seems you’ve had a long and difficult journey. After we talk, perhaps you would also like
to wash, and then to rest.”

  Wash, Chandra thought with longing. Since they were stuck here, rest was obviously a good idea, too, even though she didn’t relish the thought of closing her eyes on this grim and sinister plane.

  “Yes, thank you,” Gideon said. “We’re grateful for your hospitality.”

  Falia’s gaze went back to Gideon and lingered there. The expression of dawning fascination Chandra saw on her face belied Falia’s girlish appearance. Gideon was a handsome man, beautiful without being pretty, strong without being bulky. His predatory grace was evident in every movement, and his expression was friendly and reassuring as he returned the girl’s unwavering gaze.

  But Chandra didn’t see a frightened girl in need of reassurance looking back at him. Falia wore the expression of a woman encountering an attractive stranger in her drab little village where everyone knew everyone else, and where the choice of marriage partners was very limited.

  Falia gave a little start, evidently realizing she’d been staring, and said to them, “Please, sit now.” The girl stuck her head outside the door of the hut to give instructions to someone while Gideon and Chandra helped Jurl sit.

  “Free hands,” said Jurl.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Chandra.

  “He can’t help it,” said Gideon. “He’s a goblin.”

  The two of them sat down side by side on the woven mats that covered the earthen floor.

  Falia re-entered the hut and sat down facing them. Despite her frail appearance and sickly pallor, she was a pretty girl, with a delicate, ethereal quality. Her dark, hollow eyes seemed too sad and haunted for someone so young, but they gave her a world-weary hint of tragic beauty and inner wisdom.

  Looking at her now, Chandra thought it seemed a bit less strange that this girl was the village wise woman.

  Gideon said, “Please believe that I mean no insult or disrespect when I say that you seem very young to be a wise woman.”

  Falia looked puzzled. “I do?”

  Gideon asked, “How is the wise woman—I mean men-arch chosen here?”

  “It’s the calling of my family,” she said. “When I showed first blood, my mother knew that I was ready. Someday I will marry and bear children. My daughter will one day assume this duty.”

  “That seems like a pretty short time in which to gain wisdom,” Chandra said.

  Gideon glanced at her, but didn’t tell her to be quiet. So apparently he had a little wisdom, too.

  “My wisdom was passed to me by my mother. Her wisdom is mine. She was given hers by her mother, and so it has been for generations within us.”

  “How do you pass it?” Chandra asked.

  “We share our blood in the ritual passing of our power,” the girl said pleasantly.

  Chandra decided she didn’t want details. This wasn’t what they had come here to talk about.

  “Ah, here is your meal,” Falia said.

  A woman entered the hut, carrying a large pot. A boy followed behind her, carrying wooden bowls and spoons. The woman smiled kindly at Gideon and Chandra as she set the pot down in front of them. Falia ladled soup into the two bowls the boy had brought, then handed the bowls to Chandra and Gideon.

  The boy, who also placed his wares in front of them, paused to gape with wide-eyed curiosity until Falia put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

  “Please give the goblin food. We must show him our appreciation.” The boy picked up the pot, and carried it over to Jurl. He set it down in front of him, turned away, and left the hut.

  With his hands still bound behind his back, Jurl wiggled around into a kneeling position, then stuck his whole head into the pot and started slurping noisily.

  Chandra looked down into her bowl. It contained a translucent, pale gray broth with lumpy, white things floating in it. It didn’t look remotely appetizing, not even to someone as hungry as she was.

  “How nice,” Chandra said politely, trying not to let her face contort when she took a whiff. The stuff smelled ghastly. “What is this dish?”

  “Grub soup,” said Falia.

  Chandra focused on keeping her expression courteous. “Ah.”

  No wonder everyone here was so thin! Who would ever eat more than they absolutely had to, if this was a typical local dish? She suddenly missed Regatha.

  “It looks delicious,” Gideon said in an admirably sincere tone. “Thank you.”

  “You’re our guests, and guests are a gift from the gods!” Falia said with a bright smile as she rose to her feet. “That silly boy forgot to bring water for you. I’ll go get it.”

  As soon as the girl disappeared through the doorway, Chandra said quietly, “I don’t think I can eat this.”

  “It may be all we’ll get for some time,” Gideon said, looking into his bowl without enthusiasm. “And when was the last time you ate?”

  “I can’t even remember,” she said. “But suddenly I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”

  “Listen, it’s meat. More or less.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “It’ll give you strength.”

  “I don’t suppose many things grow in a land of constant darkness,” she said, noting the absence of vegetables in the soup. Chandra filled her spoon with the broth, which was much more viscous than she had anticipated, and lifted it to take a sip. The closer she brought it to her lips, the harder it was was. She dropped the spoonful back into her bowl, untasted.

  “Eat. We have been given this food. We can’t refuse it,” Gideon said, also lifting a spoonful of soup from his bowl.

  Chandra reflected irritably that Jurl’s noisy slurping wasn’t making the soup seem any less disgusting, either. She said loudly, “I think I’d have preferred roasted goblin.”

  “The village looks poor,” Gideon said, “so they probably only serve goblin on special occasions.”

  Jurl gave a surly grunt before he returned to gobbling the grub soup.

  Gideon said to her, “Eat.”

  “You first,” she said.

  He sniffed the thick, shiny, gray broth filling his spoon and evidently decided that inhaling was a mistake. Looking like he was holding his breath now, he took a sip. “It’s … fine.”

  She knew he was lying, but Chandra used her spoon to scoop up a boiled grub. Gideon was right on one thing. It was meat. She needed strength. Summoning her will, she put it in her mouth and chewed on the rubbery morsel.

  Falia re-entered the hut, carrying a clay pitcher and two cups. “Are you enjoying the soup?”

  “It’s excellent.” Gideon took a big spoonful.

  Falia smiled. “Good!”

  “We have some questions, Falia,” Gideon said. “Eat first,” Falia said. “Then we’ll talk.”

  “Of course.” Gideon nodded.

  Chandra steeled her resolve and ate some more grub worms, washing them down with a generous quantity of water. Since Gideon was sipping the broth without expiring on the spot, she consumed some of it, too. The texture was disgusting, and the flavor could best be described as aquatic. She wondered what the grubs might have grown into.

  The thought nearly made her gag, so she tried to empty her mind, and continued eating in silence—all while Jurl kept eating in noisy, voracious gulps.

  The goblin finished his meal first. He gave a satisfied sigh, and shifted his position so that he could lean against the wall of the hut. After a few minutes, he fell into a peaceful doze. Chandra knew this because he snored.

  When she could endure no more of the grub soup, Chandra set her bowl aside and looked at Falia, intending to thank her. That was when she realized that the girl was staring at Gideon again—this time, with a look that could only be longing.

  From what Chandra had seen, there were few men in the village. Undoubtedly, Falia was evaluating Gideon’s fitness as a mate. Though seemingly young for it, Falia clearly was ready for marriage. Chandra realized abruptly that the girl could well be several years older than she looked. Who knew what effects this blood ritual
for the passing of wisdom had on an individual, to say nothing of her diet.

  Even supposing that Falia was the same age at which girls on Chandra’s native plane typically married, it was unsettling to see how she looked at Gideon.

  Chandra wondered whether he was aware of her keen interest in him. Gideon simply ate, his gaze lowered all the while on the food. If he was aware of the girl’s perusal, he didn’t acknowledge or return it.

  When he finished eating, he set aside his bowl, and thanked Falia, who seemed to awaken from a trance.

  She smiled. “Now what have you come here to ask me?”

  “Has it always been nighttime on Diraden?” Gideon asked. “Forever?”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “You’ve come to ask about Prince Velrav’s rule.”

  “Yes. Did the endless night begin with him?”

  “It did.”

  “What happened?”

  “When my grandmother was a child,” Falia said, “there was day and night here. King Gelidor ruled Diraden. He had three sons. The youngest, Prince Velrav, was wild and dissolute.”

  The girl was a good storyteller, and the tale flowed smoothly, but the heart of the story was simple. The young Prince Velrav had engaged in various scandalous and destructive indulgences until his father banished him from castle and court.

  Furious over his exile, and more ambitious and vengeful than anyone had ever guessed, Prince Velrav studied black magic and consorted with the darkest blood demons of the realm to plot against his father.

  “You tell the story well,” Chandra said when Falia paused.

  “Thank you,” said Falia, smiling at Gideon as if he had delivered the compliment.

  Jurl snored peacefully as the girl continued her story.

  “When he felt ready to carry out his nefarious plan, Velrav returned to his father’s castle. He presented himself as a humbled, penitent son, reformed in his ways and seeking forgiveness. The king welcomed home his wayward son, and never thought to protect himself from him.”

  “Which was evidently a mistake?” said Chandra.

  Falia nodded. “In the dead of night, while the whole castle slept, the prince crept into his two brothers’ bed chambers and murdered them both, along with their wives. Then he went into the nursery and slaughtered the three children whom his brothers had sired.”