Emissary- Beasts of Burden

by Silas Post

  Jarah turned back as she finished cinching her skirt around her waist once more, then did a double take as Rikki released her bare chest. “Rikki!” she yelled, diving forward in time to catch the tightly wound ball of silk that had hidden between Rikki’s breasts.

  “Oh gods,” Rikki said. “I forgot she was in there!”

  Jarah sat on the ground then, relief evident on her face and mine.

  Thank you.

  I jolted upright with one boot still off, confused at the voice that spoke aloud. Rikki and Jarah both froze at that same sound.

  Victor?

  “Redelia?” I asked aloud, not sure where I should direct my question.

  You may unwrap me.

  Jarah lifted the bundle in her hands and tugged at the thin strap of silk that wound around the crystal inside. Over and over she unwrapped, releasing an extraordinarily long ribbon, until a crystal lay bare in her palm. It was no larger than my thumb from end to end, yet it contained the goddess within.

  It was Redelia’s soul, but to us she appeared as a miniaturized version of her godly self. Her charcoal gray body stood with arms behind her back and legs close together while her white hair lay perfectly still behind her.

  A soft light radiated in the space behind her, with occasional flares of prismatic color. We crowded around the gem as Jarah held it upright between her fingers and we peered at the beautiful goddess within, even as Redelia’s eyes stayed firmly closed.

  “Victor, Rikki, Jarah,” Redelia spoke to us through the gem. “I must add an errand to your quest.”

  “I did not realize we could commune with you in this way,” I said.

  “My powers grow, thanks to your ardent effort,” she said. “I am gratified that your travels lent you opportunity to shine my light on new earthly pleasures. You have taken a krakeness, and you took her well, nourishing my aura and allowing my connection with this fragment to intensify.”

  “Gratified,” I repeated. “So you did not send us to Telapa knowing that a kraken suffered for a savior?”

  “Some gods take credit for coincidence,” Redelia said. “I am not among them. Your brush with this forestkind was provident, but not presaged. However, now that my light has graced the tender face of Sadine Lavar, my understanding of what light the future shines has gained a pleasant clarity.”

  “We met your sister Araine,” Rikki said. “We bid her speak with you, but she resisted.”

  “And then she nearly drowned us beneath Okkor’s beach,” Jarah said.

  “You made it to Okkor’s Isle, then,” Redelia said. “Good. I needed to tell you— did you say ‘Araine?’ ”

  “Yes,” I said. “The goddess of shifting sands. Had your pendant been around my neck, you might have witnessed our struggle. Though the pendant might have been lost in the scuffle.”

  A long silence stretched before us, with Redelia’s tiny avatar remaining perfectly still. I did not want to shorten the goddess’s contemplation, though I did fear her energy might falter before she shared her urgent news.

  At last, she cleared her throat and continued. “I have never heard of Araine, nor does she respond to my psychic call. It is possible she has yet to tap into the shared network of mind that our kin have so carefully connected.

  “This suggests she is that rare exception, a god who found her way along the path to divinity unaided,” she said. “We all rely on the help of other gods, and that help is freely given. It would not suit a goddess to stand by while another being suffers. Pain runs contrary to our nature, and the soothing salve of a helping hand is a boon to both parties involved in that exchange.

  “Still,” Redelia continued, “my brother and sister gods disclaim her. None mentored her toward the realization of divinity’s call. She is an island unto herself, an oddity among my kind. I fear that her isolation deprives her of the knowledge that Greenloft’s king has issued a death call for every god that walks this plane.”

  “She does not seem concerned with any present danger,” I said. “She would conscript us three to escort her to the mountain’s peak — a location she has been unable to secure thus far — without first consulting with the goddess to whom we are pledged.”

  Redelia sighed. “Our path is one of justice and mutual survival,” she said. “Araine must not understand that, or else she would not so jealously guard the island as though she intends to rule it alone. I am in no position to test her strength, and my soul is vulnerable this far from a dedicated temple. Let us complete our task first and worry over diplomacy second.

  “Now, I did not seek your audience to discuss a wayward goddess. I caught a glimpse of Prince Wick’s sword when you rested my pendant on the tavern table, and I have dwelt since then in vain on a curiosity I observed. I realize now that perhaps I never observed it to begin with.”

  “What curiosity?” I asked.

  “Describe the prince’s weapon for me,” Redelia replied.

  “Taron was the older prince, though Wick seems to be the stronger,” I said. “His weapon is twice the breadth of his brother’s. Polished steel, long as a man’s arm, and sharp enough to split the bristle on a warthog’s chin. I attempted to steal it away from him on the docks, but it singed my hand.”

  “So it burns,” Redelia said. “What of the gap that runs the length of its blade?”

  “There was no gap, your grace,” I said. “Just a band of solid black a half-inch thick that ran from tip to hilt. It was deep and grave, like a vein of onyx, given only to an occasional glint of unearthly purple when the weapon struck its target.”

  “Of course,” she said. “A thing that reflects no light provides nothing for my power to capture. My looking stone artifacts were blind to that vile band. To me, it did not exist. Did Taron’s blade have the same feature?”

  “It did,” I said. “What is it?”

  “A thing of power, and of darkness. The king’s children are a more dangerous lot than I gave them credit for. I have only to wonder what dark force they have aligned with.”

  “Are they evil?” Rikki asked. “I would be the least surprised.”

  “No one is evil,” Redelia said. “Not truly. Tainted, yes, but all taints can be purged with time and sorrow. To know the true source of the corruption that tempers his blade, I will need a closer look.

  “Wear my pendant, Victor,” she continued. “It has lost its mercantile value now that holy relics are royal contraband, but it maintains its perceptive aspect all the same. I will need every angle of sight your travel allows. Seek out Wick, get my enchanted eye as close to his blade as you can afford. I must glean what detail the emanations of his blade cast off.”

  “We left Wick in the port city Telapa,” I said.

  “But he did not leave you,” she said. “Your paths will cross on Okkor’s Isle. I wish there were any other way, but some fate lines are etched in bone.”

  “How will you see that which is forged in darkness?” Jarah asked.

  “With help,” she said. “I—”

  We watched as the inch-tall version of Redelia doubled over. She clutched her arms around her stomach as her long white hair fell past her shoulders, hiding her face. Gradually, she rested on her knees.

  My heart nearly burst through my chest at the sight of her anguish. “Redelia,” I said. “You are suffering.”

  “Yes,” she said. Her voice was weak and she refrained from looking up at us from within her tiny crystal. “I… Do not worry for me. I will rest when the moment allows.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Jarah said.

  “Time is a luxury, and the world makes peasants of us all,” she replied. “Hurry up the mountain and dedicate a new temple to my glory. The trek is long, but the reward is pivotal. A second siphon will double my access to the well of life, and may replenish my energy enough to revive me.”

  “Revive you…” Rikki said. “Dear goddess, I don’t care whether it is power or energy you need most, we will amass them both in your name.”

  �
�Thank you, Rikki,” she said. “Thank you all.”

  13

  Each hour of travel blurred into the next, sapping our sense of progress until a faint tune wafted down the mountain’s path and sparked renewed enthusiasm.

  “There’s music,” Rikki said. Her dark eyes opened wide, spheres of polished coal that gleamed with the hope of a festive welcome into Jarah’s village.

  “There often is,” Jarah replied. “We’re yet an hour from the town arch, but the night is young and my people celebrate any occasion with food and color and music, long into the night and following morn. There is time enough to climb before we reach our reward.”

  “Will it include dancing?” Rikki asked.

  “You are impossible to exhaust,” I said. “We’ve ascended from the island’s beachfront to its modest half-height mark at a cost of ten hours’ daylight, to say nothing of the toll it takes on thigh and calf.”

  “Satyrkind have among the strongest legs in all the world forest,” she said. “I have the power to dance till dawn. Or is it the energy to dance till dawn? I’m still not sure on the difference, but I can figure that out later. After we dance. That’s what the music is for, yes?”

  “Yes,” Jarah said. “There will be dancing.”

  “Will there be wine?” Rikki asked. Now her grin stretched ear to ear. She already knew the answer.

  “There will be wine,” Jarah replied.

  “Too bad we can’t drink any of it,” I said.

  “Why not?” Rikki asked, grunting an angry puff of air from her lungs.

  “You’re right,” Jarah said. “Not a drop. We must sleep well and sound before tomorrow’s journey. The second half of the mountain is the more difficult to mount.”

  “But I will climb better in jovial spirit,” Rikki said. “The scent of wine is a lure my lips would strain to resist. And that music… I cannot sedate my hip and hoof to the rhythm of the trumpet’s call. I’ve been patient this whole way, I… I…”

  Jarah and I laughed at once, unable to contain our ruse any longer. “Who among us would dare keep you from a well-earned fête?” I asked. “So long as Jarah’s people welcome our addition, we’ll go straight to the music’s source and secure goblets of the finest cyclopean wine.”

  Rikki hooked her arms around us both for a quick, tight hug. Then she scampered ahead, scouting out the path that sloped gradually forward, but not so far that we lost sight of each other. She had relinquished her constant need to maintain physical touch, but she hadn’t once let me out of her sight since our shipwreck.

  “They will welcome us, won’t they?” I asked.

  “This is an island of peace and trust,” Jarah replied. “Until we break the news of Greenloft’s intentions, they’ll have no reason to turn anyone away.”

  “I want to make sure they won’t be unkind when they first meet Rikki,” I said. “We have journeyed past long stretches of low grass and prickly succulents, as well as tall palms surrounded by thick shrubs and ferns. We have not met a single forestkind calling this vegetation home.”

  “Okkor’s Isle is a floating home of legends unproven,” Jarah said. “There are stories of ancient sphinxes that thrived in this island’s early days, back before the mountain grew from the sand. One day, they simply left, with the forest giving birth to no new children. People have their theories as to why, but the fact remains. This is a forest with no children. Not anymore.”

  It was nearing nighttime when we approached the end of our rigorous hike, with the air growing cool and thin but perpetually calm and still. Only the barest breeze existed here, a welcome respite from Araine’s vicious tempest and the summer squall that had tossed us toward this shore.

  Tall palms had shielded us from the sun’s hottest rays while firm cactus trunks stored water to slake our thirst. Now, as the sun’s guiding glow waned toward night, Redelia’s pendant made its presence better known by contrast, providing a greater share of the light that led our feet along the mountain’s wild path.

  An evening hummingbird paused over a tropical flower, too enthralled by the bloom’s proffered nectar to distract itself with our oncoming footfalls. I had started to take these colorful birds for granted, they were so plentiful here thanks to the island’s dense and varied plant life. Small lizards climbed up the trunks of nearby palms to watch us pass; monkeys and black squirrels chased after each other for sport.

  The island teemed with life, making the absence of Rikki’s cousins a glaring perplexity.

  “Have you given thought to what you will say?” I asked.

  Jarah’s lower lip trembled as her mouth pinched closed.

  “I don’t mean to upset you,” I said. “I only ask whether there is anything I can say or do to make your task less difficult.”

  “I love my island,” Jarah said. “I love my people, and my family. I should be overwhelmed with joy to share all of this with you and Rikki, but the circumstances… How will I tell my parents what we’ve lost?”

  “With the same compassion you must extend to yourself,” I said. “You lost a brother to Greenloft’s warmongering royals. He did nothing but speak of peace and truth, yet Taron hanged him while his subjects cheered.

  “Your parents lost a brave young man taken too soon,” I continued. “There is no way to tell them this but plainly.”

  “And then the oncoming war,” Jarah said. “Our nearest neighbor’s murderous intentions. I cannot drink and dance in good conscience while that information burns hidden inside my heart.”

  We continued without words for some time, the beat of the music ahead trending up while the buoyancy of our mood trended down.

  This was not a trip of rest and indulgence. We were the bearers of dire news, and the carriers of a goddess’s last hope for revival.

  “Aho!” Rikki yelled. “You there, aho!”

  Jarah and I jogged ahead to join Rikki. An older woman approached with a dark and gnarled walking stick in hand. Her large eye was the indigo of blueberry mash, with glittering motes of lime green swirling happily within.

  “Now there is a greeting I haven’t heard in ages,” the woman said as she approached. She laughed and pulled her gauzy green shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her singular breast sagged low, pulling the skin of her upper chest taut against her ribs.

  “That’s right,” Rikki said. “I’ve spent so much time with Victor I forgot it was just humans who say that.”

  “I’m so happy our little island has attracted visitors,” the woman said. “And I see you have a local to guide you.”

  “Jarah Lin,” Jarah said, bowing slightly. “With Victor Coin and Rikki Silena.”

  “Merla Yanna,” the woman responded, bowing as well. She leaned heavily on her walking stick as she completed that movement.

  “Your carry a beautiful staff,” I said, my eyes drawn instantly to the finely carved tool in her hands. “I carried one myself once, though not half as sound as yours.”

  “Knotted palmwood,” she said, passing the item to me. “You won’t find a tree with a heartier branch, and they grow stronger as they coil with age.”

  I held it up with both palms upraised, admiring its sturdy heft and smooth texture. Its head was the size of a golem’s fist, a dense gnarl of wood that curled in on itself to form a tight and weighty knot.

  “What might it take for a visitor to purchase a staff of matching caliber?” I asked, passing the staff back to its owner.

  “The land blesses us with an occasional branch suited to a tool like this,” she said. “The only cost is patience. Have you traveled this path long?”

  “We have outlasted the sun,” I said.

  Merla’s eye lit up, the lime green flecks in her iris speeding their path. “Have you seen a young boy, no taller than a monkey and twice as headstrong?”

  “No,” I said. “Should we have?”

  “Who knows?” Merla asked. “He went to build a sand fort with his friends earlier and they all returned without him. Ketson is a scamp and a han
dful, but I must retrieve him before dark. It’s hard to send a child to his bed without supper when you can’t find him in the first place.”

  “Perhaps he visited with Araine?” Jarah said.

  “I don’t know the name,” Merla replied.

  “The goddess of shifting sands,” Rikki said. “Might make a sand fort difficult to sustain.”

  Now Merla’s smile faltered. “I believe you are mistaken, there can be no goddess on this island. It would affront his memory gravely.”

  “Whose memory?” I asked.

  “Okkor,” Merla said. She gave up smiling now altogether, offering no further explanation of the affront her mind perceived. Our exchange had become suddenly tense, and entirely non-productive.

  “Best of luck locating Ketson,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she replied. She stepped around us and poked her walking stick into the soft, loamy ground as she disappeared down the mountain path.

  “It hadn’t occurred to me,” I said once Merla was beyond earshot, “that Okkor’s Isle involved an actual… Okkor.”

  “Another unsubstantiated legend,” Jarah said. “There is a fringe who holds that story in fervent belief, but we needn’t mind Merla and her odd custom. Not when we are this close to the village arch.”

  We made short work of completing our walk, following the faint glow of the pendant around my neck and the blaring music from the heart of the village ahead.

  The entry arch was wide and ornately carved from the fire-hardened trunks of old palms. There were no doors or gates beneath it, just the open road that led to the village square. This was a city without walls or guards, just houses and huts built on a flat bluff that extended from the mountain’s face toward the horizon.

  Rikki kept scampering ahead and then turned back with an impatient face. We followed quickly as she led us toward the source of all festivities, a live band with horns and bags of wind that made beautiful squeals when squeezed quick and hard.

  Jarah reached for a few kabobs from a nearby vendor, who smiled at her and nodded before walking away.

  “I do still have a copper farthing,” I said. “What more do we owe him?”