“Of course I am.”
That was the last spoken for some time, but Brogan knew what his friend was aiming at. If he was worried about fifty men, why was he so calm when it came to the notion of killing gods?
* * *
The day after Myridia met Garien and his troupe, the grasses rose overnight in the vast area around them, changing the landscape completely. Where before there had been sand and rocks, now there was a field of green that varied in height from a few inches to over a foot. The green fields undulated in the wind and sighed and snapped. Most people might have found comfort, but Myridia had never seen such a thing before and it was unsettling.
“You look nervous.” Garien spoke while deftly cutting away the bruised parts of an apple. It was starting to wither, but one didn’t throw away food in the desert if one wanted to live. That was a lesson he’d already taught her and her sisters.
The entertainers had been generous with their clothing. Myridia wore a shirt that was large enough for three of her and had belted it with a sash. She suspected it belonged to Garien, as it was of similar style to the one he wore, but had been mended more often and washed enough to lose most color. She also wore boots made of soft leather. They were deliciously comfortable. Most of the rest had managed tops and skirts out of various cloths. The two groups still stayed apart mostly, but they were civil to each other, even if Garien and his troupe looked at the weapons the women carried with unsettled expressions.
“I’m nervous.” She pointed out across the fields. “I have a very long way to go and not much time. And I do not like the way the ground here has changed. I can’t see the places where I might fall. I can’t see the stones, or the spots where animals have made burrows.”
Garien nodded and offered her half of the apple. She gratefully accepted. “First, trust your horses. They’ll be on the lookout for pitfalls. Second, the grass will keep your horses fed. They don’t die as often if they’re fed, I’ve noticed.” He smiled as he spoke.
“You still intend to go east?” She looked at the storms, which were closer now. Not much, but enough.
Garien turned to the east and studied the land. His brow knitted in concentration lending him a brooding quality that Myridia found pleasantly distracting. “I’m not certain. The weather there looks… unkind.”
She nodded her head. “The weather will not get better unless the gods are appeased.”
“Tell me about these gods.”
“What is to tell? They demand sacrifices. Denying them only makes them angry. You have seen this already.” She pointed to the ground and to the river not far away that had only been a stream, before.
He turned to face her. “Yes, but why are they so demanding?”
She frowned. “I do not know.”
“What do they do with their sacrifices?”
“I do not know.”
Garien looked to the east again. The sun was up enough to see past the clouds, but they were towering affairs and had hidden the dawn away completely.
“I think we will go west,” said Garien.
“I think that is best.” Myridia didn’t want to try to find her way past the vast plains without help. She hated admitting it, but there it was, a simple fact.
“Should we travel together for a while?”
“I would like that.”
“Still, you must tell me about these gods of yours.”
“What makes you say they are mine?” There was ice in her belly at the comment.
“You are not known to me and I have been most places, Myridia. I have never been very far north, however. There are rules against it. Still, I’ve known a few travelers who said the people in the north were very pale.”
“You are not angry with me? With us?”
He leaned back a bit and smiled as he appraised her face. His eyes were so very blue, pale and unsettling. Despite the situation she wanted to know him better. To know his embrace, and his kiss and…
“You’ve never done me any harm,” he said, disturbing her thoughts. “Why would I be angry?”
“Because we serve the gods that demand sacrifices.”
Garien chewed at his apple for a moment, then asked, “Do you have a choice?”
“No. We are trained and raised in the way of the Grakhul. It is the life we live. What we have always done.”
“And if you did otherwise. What would happen?”
“The gods would punish us.”
“Then it would be silly to be angry with you. You are only doing as you are told.”
Myridia stared at him for a long time. She was prepared for anger. Acceptance had never been a consideration.
“So you will ride with us to the Mirrored Lake?” she asked.
“Probably not. But we will ride with you to the mountains.”
She nodded. It was enough.
The winds changed and Garien frowned. His body grew tense and he tilted his head, eyes squinting as if he strained to hear something she could not. “We should leave very soon.”
“What is wrong?”
“The night people are closer than I would like.”
“What are they that they scare you so much?”
Garien finished his apple and wiped the juices on his hand.
His eyes looked at the distant horizon and then across the fields and finally back at Myridia. The wind ruffled through his short hair and made him squint. “Hungry. They are very, very hungry.”
Instead of continuing the conversation he let out a shrill whistle and called his companions together. Em arrived first. She was a compact woman. Short and muscular and incapable of standing still, she moved constantly, often stopping whatever she was doing to stretch her limbs in uncomfortable positions. Her hair was dark and thick, pulled into a tight bun. Every time Em let her tresses loose and Myridia noticed, she was stunned that so much hair could be so tightly tucked away.
The rest showed up soon enough. The one who stood out the most was Ian, who looked big enough to carry a horse on his shoulders like a shawl.
“I think we should turn back,” Garien said. “Those clouds… I don’t like them. I don’t want to run into the weather under them.”
Ian nodded his head. “Nor do I.” He shrugged and the muscles under his flesh moved in ways that were nearly mesmerizing. Myridia had never seen a man that large. “I think it wisest to head away from that sort of storm.”
Em looked her way and then at Garien. “The night people? Will they be a problem?”
“Not if we leave now. Our friends have fed us fish and we’ve more than enough for a good meal, caught just this morning. If we leave after we eat we can make many a mile before the sun sets.”
Noral, the minstrel, looked around and smiled. He did not much care where they went, according to Garien, so long as there was an audience to hear him sing.
Just that quickly it was decided.
The fish was cooked and seasoned with herbs that Myridia had never heard of before meeting the troupe. The flavors were wonderful and in her mind she compared them to a rainbow, each flavor distinct and bright after mostly consuming fish raw her whole life. When they were done, they moved on, heading south and west, toward the distant mountains.
The ground was exactly as treacherous as she’d feared, but the troupe handled that by having a lookout walking before the horses and checking for pitfalls. Though there were a few occasions where the wagons rocked back and forth and the horses pulling them looked ready to fall over, they managed.
Despite her trepidations, the group moved away from the river. There would be more water, surely, but after suffering her first true bout of dehydration, Myridia never wanted to experience it again.
Lyraal walked next to her as they traveled, her sword wrapped in fabric and carried across her shoulders, much as Myridia carried her own weapon. The two of them did not speak often. They did not have to. They both understood very well what was at stake.
Lyraal said, “This joining with strangers? It’s a mista
ke.”
“It is temporary.” Myridia waved the idea aside, though in truth she felt a flutter in her stomach at the idea.
“What are these night people who are supposed to hunt us?” Lyraal asked the question as easily as she might ask about the weather. If she were afraid she hid it well.
“I don’t know. But we need to be prepared if they show themselves.”
Lyraal was easily half a foot taller than her and heavily muscled. She looked askance at Myridia and her hand tapped the blade of the sword over her shoulders. “I will manage something, I suppose.”
“How are the others?” Myridia stepped past a steaming pile of dung. Horses, she was learning, did not care where they crapped. They walked at the present simply because the horses needed to recover from their arduous trek. At least she felt they did. She’d only ever ridden a horse once before this entire affair started.
“They are nervous. We are far from home, amongst strangers, and heading for a place none of us has ever seen in the hopes that we can appease the gods before it is too late.”
“Yes, but aside from that?”
Lyraal smiled. “Well, not getting burned on my shoulders and breasts is nice.”
“Gods, I thought it was just me.” Myridia laughed. It was nice to laugh, even if she knew she would feel guilty about it later. The men were dead, the women of their people were probably enslaved. She could not go after revenge and she could not go after the women.
Much as it stung, she had to have faith in her gods to protect the others. Garien had previously asked what the gods did in return for the sacrifices made in their name. The honest answer was nothing, that she had ever seen. There were no miracles from the gods, though she had heard of such things. Her people were still enslaved or dead. Her brothers, her father, weak as they had been, were all she’d had and she missed them. Her mother had died giving birth to Len, her youngest brother. While she had many memories of the woman, she had not seen her in almost fifteen years and she wished she could depend on her mother’s wisdom now.
Instead it seemed that everyone was depending on her, and she was not at all certain she was up to the task.
“You are worrying again.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“You are.” Lyraal always sounded so smug when she knew she was right.
“And if I am?”
“Don’t. I’ll tell you if you get it wrong.”
“Why are you not in charge of this?”
“I have no desire to be in charge. This way I get to blame you if everything goes wrong.”
“You are wise beyond your years.”
“Also, I am horrible with decisions. Most cases I think cutting off their heads is a good solution.”
“That, too.” They walked in silence for a good five minutes before Myridia spoke again. “Do you think the rains will reach us soon?”
“I hope not. We have too far to travel and I do not like all of that lightning.”
“Yes, well, one would hope the gods take that into consideration.”
“Our traveling companions seem genuinely scared of these ‘night people’,” Lyraal said, scanning the the fields.
Myridia frowned. “I do not think they are fighters.”
“There is that.” While fighting was not the first principle the Grakhul women learned, it was considered very important. A few years of training took place with every woman. How else to defend the children? The notion that men did not fight was not that unusual to them, but to have females who could not defend a tribe was puzzling. “How long will we wander with them?”
“Until we reach the edge of the mountains. After that they will go their way and we will go ours. Should our paths continue on the same course, that is just as well, but we have only a short time to reach the Sessanoh.”
“So what about these night people?”
“They are an obstacle. We must be prepared to deal with them. I will try to get more information from Garien, but so far he seems determined not to tell me what we need to know.”
“Why?” Lyraal looked her way and frowned.
“I’ll try to find out.” It was all she could do.
“Why did they do it? The men who came to Nugonghappalur?”
That one Myridia could answer. “Because we took from one of them. The He-Kisshi chose to take four from the same family and the man who claimed them as blood was not happy.”
“That is something that should be discussed with the gods.” Lyraal shook her head.
“The gods do not discuss. They command.”
Lyraal nodded. “And we obey.”
They walked in silence for a time, both of them thinking their own thoughts about gods and duty. Finally Lyraal spoke up. “I might have done the same.”
“Truly?”
“I mean, I have no children, but if I did. I might have.”
“Even if it meant the end of the world?”
“Unwynn always said that her children meant more to her than her life.” Lyraal chose her words carefully, which was rare. She needed to make her declaration clear enough, Myridia supposed. “What else is there to lose after that?”
Myridia frowned and gestured with one arm. “Everything.”
Lyraal nodded again and sighed. The last sliver of the sun was sinking behind the distant mountains. They were close enough that the crystalline forms that rose throughout the rocky surface were nearly blinding as the sun passed through them.
“Have you ever seen such a thing?”
“The Blade of Sepsumannahun. That’s what is left of it after he fought Walthanadurn.”
“Truly?”
“Who can say but the gods? And they are not talking to us.”
To the north and west something let out an unholy shriek that warbled higher and higher in octaves, even as it grew louder and louder in volume. Both of the women took the time to check their weapons were in order.
The horses made nervous sounds, and the troupe did their best to calm them. Garien looked back from where he was sitting at the lead wagon and his long face drew down in a nervous frown.
Lyraal asked, “Do you suppose that is the night people?”
“If so, I am not sure I want to meet them.”
“What do you suppose they are?”
“It is said that the gods have opened gateways to other places, other worlds, on ten occasions as punishment for being disobeyed. Whatever made that noise, I think it came from another realm.”
Lyraal frowned. “What are those things called again?”
“Demons. They are the things that eat the world the gods have made for us.”
“Why did they let them in?”
“To remind us to obey, I suppose.”
Lyraal shook her head. “They should have just asked. When have we ever failed to obey?”
For that, Myridia had no answer.
* * *
They buried Doug one day after they left the lodge. Despite all that they tried, the young man died in his sleep. As he’d been blinded and maimed, Niall felt it might well have been for the best. He didn’t say that of course. The man’s family was in mourning.
Niall dug the hole himself, while huddled in a thick shawl and shivering. Temmi wept and Scodd lay burning and feverish, the wounds in his arm and hand deeply infected. Niall had cauterized the injuries, and the bleeding had stopped, but deep red lines ran from the burn marks and showed where infection was growing. He did not like the man’s odds of surviving.
Tully would have helped, but someone had to keep an eye out for the He-Kisshi. They had only seen the one, but one was enough.
The rains had not stopped. If anything they were worse than before, and when Niall had finished burying Doug he found several very heavy stones to lay atop the man’s grave in an effort to keep the waters from washing him back to the surface.
All of which seemed like fine enough ideas in civilized times, but part of him wanted to be done with the entire affair. That demon was still out there,
likely watching them and readying to strike. It felt wrong and ungrateful to have thoughts like those, but ultimately he was a gardener and not a brave warrior. He wanted to be home.
As soon as Doug was buried it was time to move on. The beast would certainly be back and the waters were rising around them. Stay any longer and the wagon could not avoid being washed away.
Besides, no one wanted to be near the lodge any longer.
The whole of Scodd’s family lay in the wagon as they moved. Tully kept watch and Niall sometimes drove the wagon and other times urged the horses on through areas where the road was simply gone, washed away by the rising waters.
The skies above them were nearly as black as night. Occasionally, in the far distant west, they could see spears of light fall down and cut holes in the clouds, but not often.
“Where will we go?” Tully had asked that question even as they’d started packing the family and their supplies into the wagon.
Niall had considered that while making the poultices for Scodd and wrapping Doug in a shroud of canvas. “We cannot go north. We cannot go west. South and east are our only choices.” They agreed that Saramond was not the right place. Stuck as it was on the plains, the rain would surely cause disasters there soon enough. “We could make for Giddenland, but it’s a long journey and like as not we’ll have to head for Hollum first.”
“Hollum I know well enough.” Tully looked down at the ground as she spoke. “I can get us there, I reckon. A map would make life easier, but I haven’t found any on the wagon as yet.”
“Get us to Hollum and I wager we can find someone to sell us a map if we need it.” He sniffed and looked up at the clouds. “We get to Edinrun in Giddenland and I have enough family to guarantee us safety and a place to stay.”
“I’ve never been that far south.”
“First time for everything. I’ve never been this far north.”
She forced a smile. “Are you liking your first trip north?”
He smiled back. Looking at her made that easier. “I’ve found some of the company exceptional.”
Three days they moved through the slog of half-formed streams and mud, before they finally got ahead of the storm. The clouds were still there, just behind them and towering like black mountains. Sometimes, when Niall looked back at the storms, he could almost swear there were titanic faces looking back. He had never seen a storm that so fired his imagination when it came to the shape of the clouds.
The Last Sacrifice Page 15