“Yes.” The shape nodded its head and one thick claw slipped from inside the folds of flesh and pointed toward the mountains. “We go that way, then south.”
“As you say then.” He nodded his head, surprised that he was alive. Doubly so because Uto was a bit of a moron, really, and he’d half expected his brother to shoot one of the nightmare things surrounding them.
They would be slowed down by the women and by the things that protected them. They would also be safer, he suspected, than most. The storms were not moving as quickly where the women walked. For whatever reason, they seemed to be protected by the gods.
Eight
Hunted
“We are being followed, you know.” Harper’s voice was as calm as ever. Brogan nodded his head.
“That is why we are now descending into the foothills. I thought we might be followed, but now I know it. We need to get away from them. They are very likely trying to get us back to Stennis Brae and I’ve no intention of being hanged.”
“Glad we agree on this. By all rights we’d be dead if they’d found the guards we killed, or decided we weren’t merely out to save your family. Why the foothills?”
“Well, it’s not for evasion purposes. We’re not far from where Desmond makes his home.” Desmond Harkness was a friend, he had come to Brogan’s aid and had gone his own way back. He would also very likely be among the ones hunted and killed if he was not warned.
“Desmond will not be happy to see us.”
“Desmond is never happy, Harper. He smiles and he laughs and he jokes with the best. But he is never happy.”
“And yet, of late, you make him seem a man with no worries.”
“I’ve angered the gods and they want me dead, my friends, dead, and the world dead because of my actions.” Brogan wanted to laugh over that. And to cry. And to rage. “Seems I might have reason enough to be grim.”
“No one blames you, Brogan.”
Laram called out, “I do. Seriously. I was looking forward to retirement. Now I’m running away and the woman I wanted to marry has accused me to the king.” He paused a moment while they both looked in his direction. “The first round of ales is on you when we find a pub. It’s the very least you owe.”
Brogan smiled. His friends were true friends and he loved them like brothers.
The Broken Swords were not gentle mountains; as their name suggested, they were jagged and they had many untrustworthy trails. Brogan and every man with him were used to the challenge. It was his hope that the king’s men were not and would manage to get themselves injured or worse. Better that happen before they met with Brogan and his fellow mercenaries.
“Where is Desmond’s place from here?” Mosley’s voice was weary. The poor lad had lost a good deal when he rode off. He had not had time to go home, to speak with his parents.
It was better that way. His parents didn’t need to know his shame, or see him hunted down like a dog.
Brogan shook the thought away. There was a cloud of misery that wanted very much to suffocate him. Instead he focused on his anger. It made a bitter companion and kept him moving.
“We should reach him by sunset with any luck.”
Harper countered, “Likely sooner. Desmond has a tendency to meet people before they reach his door.”
Brogan nodded. “He is a man who likes his privacy.”
“He is a man who doesn’t like other men watching his wife, as I understand it.”
“Jealousy is an ugly brute to sleep with.”
Brogan thought about that. He’d been horribly jealous when he courted Nora, but not after they were together. She had made clear in a hundred ways that they were together and that she would be faithful. He’d reciprocated. Mostly.
That notion pushed at his mind again, wanting him to give into sorrow. Instead he turned to Harper.
“So, they’re not called Grakhul?”
Harper shook his head. “The people we fought? The ones we captured and killed? They are the Grakhul. The ones who took your family are not. The ones who take, the ones who deliver the sacrifices and offer the coins are called He-Kisshi.”
“Why does everyone call them Grakhul, then? It’s the only name I ever heard for them other than Undying.”
“Because they don’t like to talk about themselves and they don’t care what we call them.”
“Have you ever actually seen one?”
“No.” Harper looked away. “I hope to keep it that way, too.”
“Why?”
“As a rule I have no desire to test myself against anything that won’t die. I like enemies I can either kill or run from. They are neither.”
Brogan looked to the eastern horizon. The veil of black clouds was spreading slowly to the south and even further north. There were silvery trails of water running along the entire area of the plains, where, frankly, aside from the Three Serpents, one was normally lucky to find an occasional stream. Several of the bands of water likely qualified as rivers.
Harper was riding next to him and spoke softly. “The weather is not right. The storms we saw before, the lightning. That was just at Saramond.”
“What are you saying?”
“It might well be that Saramond is no more. I’ve no way of knowing. Not for certain, but it’s possible that the He-Kisshi have come for the Grakhul. They might well come for us too.”
Brogan nodded. “We need to gather our forces again. We need to reach everyone. If you are right, they’ll come for any who helped us. I half expect the slavers to come for us in any event, but if what you’re saying is true, we’re going to have enemies aplenty for some time to come.”
“And if the gods decide to destroy the world, Brogan?” Harper’s tone did not change, but for once his face looked stressed and weary.
Brogan did not speak for some time.
When he finally answered, his voice was dark. “Then I suppose I shall have to try to kill a few gods.”
“Well now.” Harper ruminated on that notion. “That would be a sight to see.”
The sun was descending, and they were in the shadows of the Broken Swords before they met up with Desmond. As Harper had predicted, he was not at all happy to see them.
The man sat on his horse, silent and dark, and watched as they came. If they were expecting him to speak first, they were mistaken. His hair was back in a braid and his beard was close cropped. The black hair was shot with silver; more, it seemed, than only a fortnight earlier. He wore leather pants and leather boots and a loose cotton shirt. His hat was large and floppy and currently sagged back across his shoulders, held to his neck by a leather cord. The hat was a prized possession. He kept it behind his back so he could avoid hitting it with either his short axe or his long one.
The horse under him glared menacingly at the lot of them. The expression matched Desmond’s.
“We are pursued.”
“Yes I can see that, you damned fool.” The words were clipped and angry. “There’s a small damned army coming after you and you’ve decided to come my way, easy as you please. Now give me a reason not to shove my axe down your stupid gullet.”
“We were coming this way to warn you.” Brogan considered Desmond’s axes. They were very impressive as axes went, and he’d seen the bastard cleave more than one person with them. Even from a distance he could see the sheen of oil and the fine edge that said they’d been recently sharpened.
“Well, I’m warned. Get the fuck away from me before I start cutting.”
“It’s not that easy, Desmond.” Harper held up his hands. “There’s word going around that we’ve started a serious problem.”
“Do you think I don’t know that, you daft bastard?” He was squinting. Desmond had flawless vision. He normally only squinted like that when he was considering which spot to hit first. “The missus, she woke up this morning and said it was time for me to be on my way. Said there would be people coming soon.”
“Not this again…” Laram mumbled the words. Desmond heard th
em anyway.
“I don’t much care for your tone, lad. I don’t much care if you think my wife has powers or not. I know she does. She sent me to find you damned fools, now didn’t she? So this one time, you’re invited to my house, but we have to be quick about it, before the fucking soldiers on your trail decide I’m part of your little adventure.”
Harper actually stared with his mouth hanging open. No one was ever invited to visit Desmond.
“You mean it?”
“Oh, yes. The missus insisted.”
Desmond led the way.
The house wasn’t much to look at, but that wasn’t surprising. Desmond was a jealous man. He wouldn’t want a house that others might covet. He’d been with them on the raid; he had the same cut of the fortune they’d taken in selling off the Grakhul. The small structure, well built and hidden along the side of the mountain, reflected none of that.
Once inside, however, it was clear that Desmond did not live alone and that his wife had different tastes. The walls were adorned with furs to keep away the cold and the rooms were decorated with fine furniture – mostly hand-crafted – and several treasures from abroad. Never anything too large, as Desmond, like the rest of them, tended to travel by horse and not draw a wagon.
The same sort of trinkets that Brogan used to bring home to Nora, small, pretty, valuable.
“Anna! I’ve brought them as you asked.” Desmond’s eyes looked around his domicile and then back to each of his road companions. His expression told them not to get any notions about what belonged to whom. Brogan didn’t react. Most of the others held up their hands in surrender.
It was a simple situation in Brogan’s eyes. The man had ridden with him to try to save Nora. He would understand that Brogan wasn’t looking toward his home or his woman with covetous eyes.
And then he saw Anna, and understood the jealousy.
She came into the room wearing a skirt and a blouse. Neither was extraordinary. They were simple wool garments meant to hold the cold at bay. The way they fell on her form, however, was not simple at all. They fell across the most astonishing curves and, despite his mourning, Brogan longed to see what that fabric hid.
Anna had a heart-shaped face, and large gray eyes under a cascade of dark black curls. She could have been twenty years. She could have been forty. She had that sort of timeless quality to her. Her smile was warm and welcoming. Brogan’s heart surged again, remembering the many times Nora greeted him after months on the road.
He nodded to the woman and smiled. Then he looked away and tried to rein in his emotions. Foolishness. He was supposed to be a strong man. He should have shoved aside the misery and dread living inside of him and waiting to strike when he least expected. Every time he thought he was past the worst of his family’s death it came back at him from another direction.
Harper smiled and nodded. The others joined in.
Desmond spoke up. “This is Anna, my wife. Anna,” he pointed to each of them. “This is Brogan, a good man and a good friend. This is Harper. A good friend of dubious character. This is Laram. He tries to be a good man. Mostly he succeeds. And this is Mosely. He’s a swine, but only because he doesn’t bathe enough.” Mosely laughed. Desmond felt little by way of jealousy toward Mosely because Mosely preferred the company of men. His Anna was likely perfectly safe in Mosely’s company. “And this is Sallos. He’s a good lad with a wandering eye.” The look he shot at Sallos was particularly withering because the lad was younger, and sometimes a bit foolish when it came to his attempted seductions. The young heart, as Harper was fond of saying, is often led by the young cock and not by the mind.
Anna shook her head and smiled again. “Sit. I’ve made tea. We have to talk, all of us, about what is coming.”
The room was just large enough to allow a half dozen people to sit comfortably.
“We are pursued,” Harper reminded, pointing out what everyone already knew.
Anna shook her head. “They will not find you this day or this night. Tomorrow might well bring a different ending but you are safe tonight.”
Harper stared at the woman for a little longer than made Desmond comfortable, but finally he nodded.
Anna continued. “I have certain talents. I’ve studied the ways of the Galeans.”
Such was a polite way of saying she was a witch. Galea was known for sorcery and worse. It was considered too dangerous a place for most people to travel to and was outlawed by most of the Five Kingdoms. Of course, slavery was outlawed too, and that continued on. There were many laws. Remarkably few of them were enforced. Apparently not stopping sacrifices was the exception.
Brogan felt the tendons in his hands creak as he made fists and relaxed them again and again.
Anna saw the looks on their faces and nodded. “I know what most think. I don’t care. I had my reasons.” There were stories about what a person had to go through to learn from the Galeans. “I did what I had to in order to learn.”
Brogan shook his head. “No one here is in a place to judge you. Don’t fret it.”
That earned him a smile from Anna and Desmond alike.
Anna continued, “I have seen the same things you have, the endless storms, the darkness creeping in from the east. The sun still rises every day, but it takes a damned long spot of time for it to get past the clouds – and that will only get worse. You, all of you, have angered the gods. They intend to destroy the world because you stopped them from getting their sacrifices.”
“They got them. They took my family as their sacrifices. They were deprived of nothing.” Brogan’s voice was low and soft. His rage flared and no one there thought he was talking out of turn.
Anna looked his way and smiled softly. An apology, really. “I know of your loss. I feel for you. But the gods do not care. The sacrifice was tainted in their eyes. You threw bodies into the Wells of the Souls that were not prepared properly.”
Brogan took several deep breaths, his chest hitching. His eyes burned but he said nothing. Ranting at the woman because of what some sort of deities believed would solve no issues.
Anna said, “The gods have declared that the only way to cleanse the sins of the world and save it is if you, and I mean all of you who raided their keep, are gathered together and sacrificed at the other place where they will accept purified bodies.”
All but Brogan looked around at each other. He saw them all with his peripheral vision, but he did not stop staring at Anna.
“They want all of us as sacrifices? As an apology?” His voice was still soft.
Anna nodded.
“That will not happen. I owe no god an apology. I owe no god fealty. They have offered me nothing that I wanted and I have never made a prayer for them to answer.”
Anna nodded again. “They do not care. The gods do not answer prayers. They demand sacrifices. They are not the same thing.”
“So what do we do?” Laram looked directly at Brogan.
“We find a way to fight the gods.”
Harper chuckled.
Mosely said, “We can’t fight gods.”
“Why not?” countered Brogan.
Mosely spread his arms and shook his head, nearly laughing at the very notion. “Because they are gods, Brogan. They are too big to fight!”
Brogan stared hard at him. “Watch me try.”
Mosely stopped laughing.
Brogan turned back to Anna. “How are the gods ending the world? What can I do to stop them?” He did not assume that the others would go with him. Whatever he chose to do, he could guess it would look like madness to most.
Anna shook her head. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “How does one stop gods?”
“It must be possible.” Brogan waved toward the mountains they’d just left. “According to every legend the Broken Swords are where gods fought and at least one of them broke a sword. The fight isn’t going on anymore, so there must be way to end them.”
“I will try to discover the truth of that.” She shook her head again, but s
he smiled.
Later, after they had eaten a meal around the small kitchen, Desmond gestured everyone to silence and they heard the sounds of the soldiers passing by. The men were silent, but the horses were horses and made noises, stomped and whinnied and doubtless crapped wherever they walked. There was no doubt they could spot the droppings from Brogan and company’s horses. They should have been able to see the damned animals outside in the pen near the front door, but they kept on going, fifty men moving past as if there were no house to see, no horses to observe.
They sat in silence for some time, until the horses had moved on and their noises stopped. Sallos stared at Anna with wide, frightened eyes.
She looked back and shook her head. “I’ll not steal your soul, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He blushed and looked away, scowling. No one mocked him. Not even Desmond, who looked like he wanted to say something.
“Stay the night.” Anna gestured around the room. “It’ll be a snug fit, but warmer than the outside and you’ll have time to rest before you have to make your way past the soldiers.”
“Like as not we’ll go a different way.” Brogan looked around at the others and they nodded.
“No. You won’t. Whatever it is you’re looking for, it’s to the south of us. And likely on the other side of the mountains.”
“You don’t know what it is, but you can guess where?” Harper looked at her as if she’d grown a second nose.
“I’ll be studying portents and trying to understand that through the night, Harper.” She looked at the man and smiled. He actually blushed. He was smitten. It was possible they all were. Except, of course, for Mosely. Though that, too, was something Brogan could not have said with certainty.
Brogan kept his peace as Desmond and Anna moved to their own room and left the men alone in the shadows of the mountain. He could not say whether true night had fallen as yet, but he knew that he was tired.
Mosely sighed and Laram and Sallos made noncommittal noises.
Harper spoke up. “Are you worried about fighting the soldiers if we run across them, Brogan?”
The Last Sacrifice Page 14