by Ashley Capes
“Don’t you have a war to get back to?”
He grinned. “The invasion is well in hand.” The expression faded. “Now tell me, why leave the jewels behind.”
“I found the cut a little cloudy.”
“Bah. No more games.”
“Death. Death was the reason.”
“Go on.”
“Thirty men went to the Isle and only three came back. The Guardians were too powerful,” Never said. “And that’s before the maze. Even with the map, it was difficult. The sea-creatures rule those caverns but deeper within, there is a room where death strikes from... all around. It shredded man and steel alike. Shredded, Harstas. There was only a fine pulp left afterwards. The final door was locked.”
His eyes were narrowed but he did not appear to discount the story. “And the key?”
“Supposedly in the ruins of Sarann,” Never said. “That much we learnt.” If he could sell the lie, maybe there would be a way out. Buy some time at least. He couldn’t kill them all at once, not without losing Luis, Elina or Karlaf – or even all three in the process. Not that many of the Steelhawks were even allowing themselves to be vulnerable to his blood to begin with.
And Harstas would be watching.
He’d made a mistake, as he always did. Allowing others to become close – allowing others, even to travel with him, was always a mistake. He should have known that by now.
“Supposedly?” Harstas asked.
“That’s what I believe the markings within the Amber Isle indicated. Karlaf is guiding us to Sarann for more answers, not just for a cure.”
“Then we will have to find this key.” He nodded as if Never had offered agreement. “And perhaps it is time for some assurance, yes?”
“Assurance?”
“Yes. You do not expect me to trust you, surely? I will require an additional hold over you. You recall Dimaya, of course?”
“Why?”
“Because should you disobey me, I will give him the Hanik girl. Do you understand?”
Never stiffened. “Do that and I’ll kill you all.”
“With the Moor-Sickness? And bound? Surrounded as you are – and me with three hostages? Save your fury.” He placed two fingers against Never’s chest and gave a push. “Now go. Relieve yourself and be quick about it.”
Never clenched his jaw, but turned to the nearest tree.
*
He woke in the grip of another bout of fever.
Only this time, the chills had returned. He was given a blanket and forced to march between his captors in the dawn light. Harstas set a quick pace. Never stumbled often and the forest drifted in and out of his vision – at times it was no more than a green blur. But he kept up until noon, when he collapsed.
A figure loomed over him. Elina – her face only fuzzy at the edges. Her head was bandaged but she was bound, just as Luis and Karlaf had been since capture, as he was now, lying in the loam.
“He needs water,” someone shouted.
“I need fire,” he mumbled.
Someone pressed a water flask to his lips and he drank even as he continued to shiver. Or was he sweating now? Or both. He sat up, supported by someone’s arms. He blinked until his vision cleared a little more.
Harstas was watching, arms folded where he stood in the middle of the Steelhawks, his own guide watching from a short distance away. The thin man appeared weary – doubtless they’d all pushed hard to intercept Karlaf’s raft.
But it was Dimaya that caught his eye – the man stared at Elina. His expression was dull, almost bored, but he continued to track her every move, gaze unbroken when someone passed before him.
Harstas had obviously spoken with the man.
“Not a chance, friend,” Never breathed.
Elina knelt beside him, holding the flask. “Never?”
“Watch out for Dimaya. The one with the crooked nose.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said.
He squinted. Was her jaw clenched when she spoke?
Harstas waved a hand. “Break to eat.”
Sighs of relief echoed around the path. Members of the Steelhawks walked in less armour than customary, but it was a heavy load nonetheless. And they’d been chasing Never for a long time now. Hopefully it would take a toll sooner rather than later. If Karlaf had been correct, Sarann was now two or more days away, at which point the bluff would be played out.
He’d have to come up with something in a hurry.
Too soon and he was shivering along in step once more, separated from Elina, Luis and Karlaf. No way to plan together.
Which left the environment.
If he could stumble in such a way as to scratch himself, he’d have blood – Gods, gouging his own hands with a fingernail would do the trick, but it still didn’t let blood free from any of his captors.
By nightfall sweat poured from him again.
Tied to a tree at the edge of the camp, water and a few slivers of dried meat was all he was afforded. He barely kept it down. His companions were similarly restrained, always within eye-line of the Vadiya. The only time no-one watched was during a group chant, where Harstas led them in an oath swearing allegiance to the tenants of the Vadiya God. Never had not seen the full oath before. It seemed quite long; littered with redundancies.
Achieving eye-contact with Luis was no achievement. The man raised his eyebrows but Never shook his head.
No. No ideas.
The chant went on. While no-one shouted, in the absence of other sound – it filled the night. Never slumped against the bark.
A voice spoke quietly from behind the tree. “Hardly a musical tribute to the old rascal, is it? Sounds rather repetitive. Though, perhaps it is fitting – he’s believed to be rather militant.” Never turned his head slowly but even had it been light, he wouldn’t have been able to locate the owner, too constricting were his bindings. The voice was deep, sounding amused.
“Who are you?”
“The Watcher in the Wood. Some call me the Bleak Man, though I find that uncharitable.”
Never frowned at the shadows. The voice seemed close enough to touch, if only he were able to reach out. The Bleak Man? Watcher in the Wood. Was that who had been following them? The names were those from a child’s ghost story – the kind parents used to frighten their children from wandering in the forest. “What does that mean? Were you following us?”
“I am called so because I tend to the dead within the forest. But that is just one part of my role here.” The voice paused. “They are nearing the end of the ritual. Attend to me, Amouni. Let us strike a bargain.”
Hearing that name again... did it feel familiar or did he only want it to be true? “You think I am Amouni?”
“Of course. Your heritage whispers in the leaves, Never. Quickly. I offer freedom for you and your companions.”
“I can offer you nothing, trapped as I am.”
“For now your word is enough.”
The chanting came to a halt and Harstas stood. Never exhaled. There was no time left – he’d have to decide or lose the opportunity. Yet what would his side of the bargain entail?
“You have it,” Never whispered.
The Bleak Man did not answer but there was the faintest hiss of something passing through leaves. And then the Steelhawks were spreading their bedrolls and posting sentry – a pair. No doubt Harstas’ guide had explained the danger posed by the Bakar.
Never glanced to each of his companions and tried to send a message with his eyes. Be ready. He didn’t know when, or how, or whether the so-called Bleak Man would act. Sooner the better.
Only Luis seemed to understand, giving a slight nod.
And now to wait.
Chapter 12.
No rescue.
Dusk had spread its warm glow across the white birch and the gre
en undergrowth that had grown progressively denser. Some of the blade-like plants grew to knee-height and the path was dotted with weeds. Many were flowering – little pink blossoms that were trampled as the Steelhawks drove toward a stone building in the near distance.
It had the look of an outpost. Large but long-since deserted. It stood open to the elements, its doorway and windows gaping. There was no roof except the forest canopy above. Birds had made nests in the corners, now abandoned. Shrubs grew around and within, while moss crept across the stone, as if the building were unshaven.
Never continued to scan the trees but there was no hint of any men, bleak or otherwise. He followed Elina, whose guard was Dimaya. The man had continued to stare at her with his flat expression, only now he toyed with a knife as he walked.
Bastard.
“We camp here,” Harstas announced, then looked to his guide. The man, Lidreas, was pacing. He eventually crouched by the corner of the room. “Unless our guide has concerns he would like to share?”
Lidreas stood, pushing his lank hair back from his eyes. “None, Commander.”
“Something caught your eye, yes?”
“Only old markings – I thought they might be left by other travellers.”
“And?”
“I cannot read them.” He hung his head a moment. “I apologise.”
Harstas gave a small shrug. “Karlaf – your turn.”
Someone shoved the old guide forward. He glared at them but stomped over to the marks, which from Never’s position seemed to be random scratching between the weeds. Karlaf reached out, tracing imaginary lines above the markings on the stone.
He turned, speaking in Haniker. Never’s own Haniker was rusty but he followed enough. “Just two names and a date.”
Harstas sighed and spoke in his own tongue. “In Vadiya, or at least Marlosi, please.”
Karlaf glanced at Lidreas, who translated for the older guide. Was there a slight moment of hesitation from the man?
Harstas did not appear to notice. The commander nodded then issued orders for a fire to be prepared. Never caught Karlaf’s eye as he passed. The man’s expression was one of concern. What did the markings really indicate?
At a shouted command from Harstas, Never was taken outside. As they pushed him through the doorway he glanced over his shoulder. Elina was glaring at Dimaya, who stood across from her, his expression dull as ever, but his gaze directed on her.
Harstas stood in the trail, facing the direction of Sarann.
“You could really work on your tone when calling for me, you know,” Never said. “You’re beginning to nag.”
“Truly?” The man did not continue.
Never waited. Whatever the commander wanted, Harstas would have to say soon enough. Even his guard soon shifted his feet.
“Ketr, you may leave us.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“How intimate,” Never said. “And you even arranged a sunset for this moment.”
Harstas spun, backhanding Never.
White lights exploded. Never stumbled back. Blood began to trickle from his nose as he blinked. The taste of iron graced his lips. The Vadiya did not raise his voice. “Would you like to see if you can operate as an effective guide without a tongue?”
Maybe he’d pushed the man too far after all. Good.
But he didn’t answer.
“Better. Let’s introduce a new method of communication. You speak when given my permission, as befitting a jenaek,” the man said, using the Vadiya word to indicate a foreigner. A more accurate translation was probably ‘without-family’ and the way he said it was clear – jenaek was meant as an insult. Never ground his teeth but did not respond. “If you do not, I begin removing fingers from Luis’ hand. Of course, if I’m really disappointed with you I will turn Elina over to Dimaya. I understand that before he became a soldier of God he was curious about the insides of people. Still is, I believe – if seeing what he tends to do to Marlosi farmers is any indication.”
Never made a fist. If anyone needed to be opened up it was Dimaya – so the contents could be burnt to ash.
“Now. I will ask you a question. I expect an answer.” Harstas paused. “The Moor-Sickness. How serious has it become?”
“I can’t say for certain. But I don’t believe I would survive the trip back to the Amber Isle without a cure.” At times, even when he was in the throes of unbearable chills, his blood seemed to boil in his veins. If he’d been able, he might have checked his chest, to see if the blood-tattoo had returned. Sweat dampened his temple more often than not. Another bout of chills would almost be welcome.
“Then you will receive the Red Clove once you have located the key in the Sarann ruins, no sooner. That is clear?”
Bastard. “Yes.”
“Why here, Never – why in Sarann? It is a distant place for a key to a cavern off the coast of Marlosi.”
“There were ancient Hanik runes within, describing a long journey from a ‘green haven’ and mentioning the ‘protecting of wealth from those who hunted them’. I believe those people created the place then returned home – after all, they were once great sailors, why wouldn’t they? Perhaps they meant to one day return to the Isle and collect their bounty – I cannot imagine they could wish to stay on such a barren place for any real length of time.”
“Go on.”
“The key was then hidden to keep it safe – and Sarann was once the centre of Hanik civilisation. The ‘green haven’. Karlaf agrees with me, though it’s a welcome coincidence that one of the places the Red Clove was last sighted was near Sarann. The Clove is also found elsewhere in the White Wood.”
“And within the city you will head for the temple? The palace? Both are buried, yes?”
“I am prepared to dig.”
He folded his arms. “A slim hope, no? And with no such tools? And so little time.”
“Many of our supplies were lost in the swamp,” Never said. “For the Sea King’s Jewels it is hope enough. Especially if I have a cure to work for.”
“We shall see.” He smiled, resting both hands on his hilts. “Very bold of you to cross the swamp. Lidreas was not willing to follow, not even under the pain of death. But he took us on quite a merry chase to meet you on the other side. One of my men was lost.”
Never offered no answer. He waited for a direct question.
“I am holding you accountable for his death.”
Still he waited.
“And for every death thereafter until I am on the Isle, holding the Sea King’s Jewels. And for the death of my men during your little escape back in Isacina. My men, Never. Members of the Boar Family among them – each still waits for vengeance.” Harstas paused. “Yet, should you do your job as guide, I may spare your life and any of your companions that survive. God practises mercy, so may I. Unless you fail me.”
The light had faded but it was not yet dark; it remained bright enough to see the hate glittering in the man’s eyes.
“Return to the outpost.”
Never turned back into the ruin. The Steelhawks had spread around the room, one was working on a fire and others were speaking together. One man stood alone, eyes closed but mouth moving, perhaps in a prayer. Dimaya continued to gaze upon Elina but for the moment, Karlaf and Luis sat with her. Never moved toward them but was intercepted by one of the Steelhawks.
Karlaf had time to mouth a single word – ‘Bakar’ – after which he glanced at the markings on the stone floor.
A warning then?
Never took a seat against the wall in the failing light. He had to act. No more waiting. He flexed his fingers as best he could. The rope had long since chafed. Even if he could reach a weapon, would his hands be able to grip it?
A scream rose from the forest. A wordless cry for help. A woman’s voice.
Never stood. Half those in t
he room had risen and all eyes were on the doorway.
And then a child’s voice joined the cries for help – the words distinct. The boy was afraid. He’d grown lost and the dark was scary. Half the guards had already taken a step toward the doorway – even Dimaya looked away from Elina.
The child spoke Vadiyem.
Harstas appeared. He pointed at Lidreas and one of the Steelhawks. “With me.”
That left one guard for every prisoner.
Never exchanged a glance with Elina; she’d understood. The guards conferred. They argued, one waving his arms. Another shook his head, snapping that Harstas would skin them alive if they left their posts. Yet he was shouted down and two more soldiers left the room. Two remained, blades drawn.
“No move,” one said, speaking heavily accented Marlosi.
The woman and the child cried on. Were they searching for one another? Both now called in Vadiyem, although neither seemed able to hear the other. Time passed slowly, with the urgency of the cries rising. Never exhaled – he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.
The guards were breathing hard, glancing into the darkening forest often.
Never looked to Luis; it might be possible to rush the guards. After all, four against two were favourable odds. Yet the blades remained a problem.
The woman’s voice lifted to a screech and the taller of the guards flinched. “That was Dashala.”
“What?”
“It’s her; I can tell.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s just a woman.”
“No. It’s my Dashala. She needs me.”
“She’s back home. That’s someone else out there. Listen.”
The guard shook his head then shoved his way from the outpost. “She’s in pain,” he cried.
The final member of the Steelhawks faced his four prisoners, switching his sword from hand to hand. He spread his legs into a wide stance. “You might break free but at least one of you will die by my sword.” He pointed. “The rest of you will be hunted down.”
Never strode forward. “You cannot kill me. Harstas needs me.”