by C F Welburn
The golden wood seemed endless, and at times their mounts waded knee deep in the fiery flood. Large black birds crowed out neath pale skies, and once Balagir saw a black figure, which vanished when he blinked. Otherwise the day passed uneventfully. In a quiet moment, he tried out the shade-band, but the light was too weak, and the dancing leaves twitched the shadows in a way that made him leap immediately back to his body.
As dusk draped them like a thick blanket, they were forced to rest in the open. Kiela swiftly kindled a makeshift fire that lacked the potency or safety of the piper’s flames. Conversation meandered; it had been a long day’s haul, and weary reverie was upon them all.
He slept and was awakened by Kiela when it was his watch, immediately noticing the blue lights in the trees.
“Pay them no heed,” Kiera warned sleepily, settling down in her cloak. “Beguiling sprites that lead astray.”
Balagir tried to ignore the entities but could not quite pull his eyes away, following them as a cat might swifts on the wing.
“Chisps,” she murmured, and her breathing changed as sleep took her.
He felt an unrest at his side and noticed that Era was emerging from his pouch. He pushed her back down with his mind and drew the drawstrings. It seemed an awfully long time before Ginike’s watch came. His dreams were restless, full of dancing shapes and flittering motes, and he awoke more tired than before.
The next day dragged on a mile at a time, autumn tightening its hold until only a few stubborn leaves thwarted death. Beneath the horses’ hooves, their fallen kin rustled and snapped, making silence or stealth impossible. Still, they were waylaid in no more serious a way than when Ginike realised he had lost a feather from his hat and spent some time rooting around the undergrowth. The chisps were only briefly mentioned, and all agreed they were best ignored. Moods were not lightened when Garill informed them the Bone Forest lay still a further day south, and spending another night out in the woods did not bring any cheer.
Night drew close, and a full moon made spindly fingered shadows scratch and claw their camp. Once more Balagir awoke to the chisps, only this time they burned brighter. Era pushed at the opening of his bag, and he hid it beneath his knees as he bid Kiela a good sleep.
Then he watched, and his bag wriggled and writhed as if he had a litter of kittens therein. He urged her to stillness, but she paid him no heed. Foolishly, he opened the bag to peek, and the kalaqai was out, across the camp and into the trees.
He cursed her through the link which bound them, but her attraction to the chisps was too strong. As she pushed the boundaries of their bond, he felt his chest tighten, causing her to pause and drift reluctantly back. Then a chisp streaked across her path, and she danced after it. Era! He commanded desperately, having no choice but to close the distance between them. Reaching her, he made a cup with his hands, but fleeter than a fly, she swirled aside and chased down another of the alluring lights. Fearing what rupturing their link could mean for them both, he had little choice but to keep her as close as one would a raft in a storm; losing it would mean drowning in solitude.
Before long, the dim lambency of their camp was lost, and he no longer knew from whence he had come. Cursing her vehemently with each breath, he could but follow.
At some dark point in the woods, after he had tripped, slipped, and bashed his shins, the chisps were inclined to converge and hovered about a large boulder. Era floated amongst them, and they orbited her as though they were tiny blue moons, and she a green sun.
Caught between vexation and relief, he took in the clearing. Aside from the smooth boulder, they could have been anywhere else in the shedding wood. The stone’s surface was smooth save for six indentations, symmetrical around its surface. He bent to examine when a chisp fluttered in his face. He batted it hence as though it were an avisp, sending it, perhaps a bit too rashly, into the side of the rock. Instead of rebounding or crumpling to the floor, which such a blow should have caused, the chisp locked into one of the indentations and held fast. Deciding it could be no coincidence, he went about swiping at the others, meaning to knock them into the rock as he had their fellow. They were wise to it now though and floated at a safe distance. He turned to examine the trapped chisp. It still glowed blue but was as static as a distant star.
He looked frustratedly at the others, and an idea occurred.
With all his resolve, he willed Era towards the rock. She obeyed now, their link being strong and her curiosity seemingly sated. As she went, so too did the chisps, pulled as if by gravity. They circled helplessly before the boulder as one by one Balagir guided them into position. Era, far from being distraught, darted about in glee at his action, and he stood back to puzzle what he had achieved. The chisps, six in total (with others abroad in the trees), were locked into the mechanism. Six prisoners; half a dozen points of blue light. Then the kalaqai, of her own volition, entered a central node, and the rock began to gyrate. The chisps darkened and blazed from blue to red. The disquieting rumble was due to the tilting of the boulder, which revealed a dark orifice and descending steps.
He wanted to go back for the others, but leaving Era here was no option, so, withdrawing the star-wand, he began a cautious descent.
The steps did not go far, terminating in a square chamber. It was modest in size and quite unremarkable save for the pedestal at its centre. He approached tactfully—wary of the floor, conscious of the ceiling—until he looked down at the object. It was a wand of some design, similar in dimensions to the one he carried, but ornately carved from a dark, rough material. He retrieved it gingerly, expecting at any instant to be struck down. Cold to the touch, he turned it over in his fingers. It made the star-wand, indispensable as it had become, seem novice in comparison.
Not relishing the idea of casting it in such confines, he returned to the woods. No sooner was he across the threshold than the grating resumed, and suddenly the night air was alight with chisps and the kalaqai once more. Then, in a great moment of grandeur, he straightened purposely and cast the wand with aplomb. Nothing happened. He tried it again, less frivolously, and still no effect was forthcoming. Finally, he bagged the wand in disappointment. Finding out this wand’s worth would become a priority, else the whole affair had been rather anticlimactic. If only Imram were with them.
But neither Imram nor the others were there. In fact, for the first time in a while, he was utterly alone. Era drifted back, and the relieved chisps floated off aimlessly, dashing any hopes they would guide him back.
“Great,” he said, but the kalaqai flittered into his bag with no acknowledgement of his irony.
Era and the chisps had led him on a merry trek. He looked for Baramunda, but the useless waypoint was not visible through the creaking branches. Maybe it was a northern star; for all its lack of efficiency, it would serve him as well here as it had back there. Setting off directionless into the darkness did not appeal to him, so he sat with his back against the boulder until the eastern skies made silhouettes of the skeletal trees.
He rose, stretched, and chose a course. If he headed south, he would at least be making progress and more than likely cross the trail before the morning was out.
He looked once more upon the unlit boulder, shook his head, and struck out.
He steered by the ghost sun in the pale east, adjusting his steps as it slid across the sky like butter in a pan. The morning melted into a chill noon with still no sign of his companions. If they were ahead, then the leaves obscured all traces of their passing. If they were behind, no sound of hoof reached him. He could only maintain his pace and hope that they, or he, would wait respectively at the golden wood’s eventual eaves. Though it was Kiela’s company he missed the most, he was more concerned about Garill, without whose knowledge the chest would be untraceable. Likely similar bleak thoughts were passing through the bald ashen’s mind at this very moment.
Noon grew weary, and the shadows stretched like yawning, black creatures, and still he held his course. Night fell swiftly here,
a mirror image of how his day had begun; he walked until the orange hue faded on the other side of the firmament. He thought better of using the star-wand and sank down against a knotted bole. He could not have wandered that far from the path, but if he went on another night, the distance strayed could grow twofold.
He watched for a while, the night lighter somehow. He rolled the heels of his hands in his eyes, then, squinting, he picked out its source. Beyond a small ravine, the trees were a shade paler. The illumination of hidden flame wavered in a hollow. It had not the music or power of a piper’s fire, yet it heartened him all the same. He set off to rejoin his company.
He used the wand to negotiate the steep ridge and extinguished it as he neared. He did not notice there were no horses until it was too late. A branch snapped behind him.
“Eyes up! Got a live one here.” He spun to see a tall lank-haired man at his back, a strip of fire dancing along his sword. “Well, well, and I thought the day was done.”
Two others appeared, blades bared; ashen all.
“Yield your weapon, and let’s make this easy.”
Balagir drew his sword.
“You first,” he said, weighing the odds. They were not good.
“Ha. We’ve got a brash one, lads,” said a newcomer, rat-faced and gaunt. “Maybe he’s the right to be. That’s a nice sword you’ve got, friend.”
“Its bite is not so pleasant,” Balagir said, strafing until he had a tree at his back.
“Why don’t we all lower our blades?’” the lank-haired man suggested. “It seems we might be missing an opportunity here.”
“And what might that be?”
“You got the hunger in you, I can smell it a mile off. We’ve got a system here, could use one like you. Smoke is rife in these parts if you’ve the will to harvest it.” Despite his impressive sword, Balagir did not delight in the idea of fighting three ashen in the dark wood.
“Speak on.”
“Let us return to the fire.” No one moved. At length the man sighed. “Our friend here is cautious. Lads, put away your weapons.” Hesitantly, they did as ordered. “Better?”
Balagir nodded and reluctantly did likewise. He followed them to the fire, where they sat and watched each other more closely than a table of high-stakes Ciga players.
“I’m Jaks,” the lank-haired man said. “That there is Hegg and Iker. Be friendly, boys.” Balagir followed his gaze to the rat-faced, black-toothed Hegg, and the bulky, yellow-haired Iker. Neither looked capable of following Jaks’ command. “And you are?”
“Balagir,” he answered without warmth.
“And what are you doing out here alone, Balagir?”
“Collecting mushrooms. I got lost.” Jaks smiled.
“I see. It’s been a long day, I’ll humour you. But at our fire, you’ll answer our questions. Now, how comes it you are here, all alone?”
Balagir shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve no need for company.”
“That’s a pity. I was considering making you an offer.”
“To join your company?” Balagir asked. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because in a week we earn more smoke than you’ve yet seen. Also, it will not end pleasantly if you decline.” Balagir decided to ignore the slight.
“You’ve some oaths on offer?”
“Oaths? Ha. Paltry errands. How have you come this far without realising that? Death smoke is easier, thicker.”
Grimly Balagir took their meaning; Garwright’s had left a lingering taste.
“That smoke’s a bit black for me.”
“You’re missing the point. One ashen’s loss is another’s gain. No one gives you anything for free. You must take it, or else have it taken from you.”
“And you would have me join? Why not kill me and be done with it? My ‘death smoke’ too paltry?”
“He makes a good point, Jaks,” Hegg said, licking his lips. Jaks stayed him with a dirty-nailed hand.
“Now Hegg, remember what happened last time. Let us think logically.” He looked at Balagir and grimaced. “You must excuse Hegg, he has the tendency to stab first and ask questions later. I prefer to exhaust all options first. A pile of ash is a poor conversationalist. In answer to your question, well, I see potential. Speculate to accumulate and all that. We’re doing fine, but it’s small game. Like a farmer hunting rabbits, it keeps our bellies full, but the work’s tedious. With a more competent band, there are more abundant herds.”
“I appreciate your offer,” Balagir said. “But I don’t trust you.”
“Ha. Nor should you. None of us got this far by trusting anyone. And I’m not saying this is a permanent arrangement, no, no. But we can make a temporary pact. One that will benefit us all.”
“What do you have in mind, exactly?”
“Groups of ashen are to converge at Iceval. This is known. A piper’s challenge is brewing. ‘Twill be a grazing herd ripe for the picking. Straggler work is piecemeal and laborious.”
Balagir looked the three men over. Even the wood’s gloom was not enough to mask their unsavouriness. His eyes lingered on Ginike’s feather protruding from behind Hegg’s ear.
Grimly, he asked: “Any recent successes?”
“A small group. Ragtag. Nothing more. Snacks only whet the appetite.”
Uneasily he examined their garments, but he saw nothing else that suggested they had crossed paths with the others. He made a show of considering their offer, but under the circumstances, he had little choice.
“You say you’re heading south?”
“Aye.”
“Well, we do share a destination.”
Jaks nodded, pleased. “See Hegg, restraint pays dividends.”
“We’ll see,” Hegg said, and he spat into the fire, making it hiss. Iker seemed about to say something, but grunted instead.
“Now, words from men like us mean little, and you’d be foolish to let your guard down, but whilst we’re together, we have no quarrel, understood?”
Balagir agreed, his dagger at the ready within his sleeve. He would bide his time until he could escape and find his companions.
“Of course,” Jaks said, looking into the shadows, “we’ll have to see what Gorj thinks.”
“Gorj?”
He turned, but the huge figure was too close.
The club came down hard.
XIV.i
THE BAD COMPANY
When Balagir opened his eyes, dawn had broken. The scene remained blurry for several moments, until the four faces drifted into focus. Daylight had exasperated their appearance, and their black eyes were more unsettling. He touched the back of his head, and his hand came away red.
“I thought we had a pact?” he groaned, with as much futility as telling the clouds the day was supposed to be sunny.
“We do,” Jaks said. “But Gorj wants to give you a period of initiation.” He looked at Gorj, who was staring back at him. No one spoke. Then he saw Gorj was wearing his boots and noticed his own bare feet. His cloak and sword were also gone. He twisted desperately and found his bag empty and discarded.
Gorj smiled cruelly and waved the star-wand before him, shining it in his eyes and making him squint. Jaks whistled.
“Quite a collection. You’ve been busy.” He extended his hand as Balagir struggled to rise. “Don’t you worry. You’ll get them back if you prove yourself. I’m sure Gorj can be reasonable.” He felt naked and was as nothing without his possessions. His only consolation was that they had not killed him and taken his smoke. They truly must have a use for him in the south, and he would have to prove his worth to the pack if he were to avoid a culling.
A brief light in the canopy caught his eye, and he glanced to see Era had escaped.
“You could’ve just asked,” he said, touching his tender scalp.
“Gorj doesn’t care for small talk,” Jaks explained. Gorj, an oaf of a man, opened his mouth and clicked the stump of his tongue back and forth. “You’ve heard the expression all bark and n
o bite? Well, Gorj does not bark.”
Balagir regarded the black-eyed beast of a man carefully. It pained him to see he had his sword and wore his boots, but for all his ferociousness, he seemed unable to activate them.
“Now on your feet. You’ve delayed us long enough. Such slovenliness would normally be punished, but we were kept amused by your bag of treats.”
They pitied him not his throbbing head and pressed on southwards. At least the movement gradually abated his chill. The silent Gorj walked ahead and would occasionally turn and clack his tongue like some nightmarish magpie. Jaks and Iker walked on either side of the group, scouting the woods, and Hegg followed up the rear, giving Balagir the watched sensation of a man marched towards the gallows. When he had an opportunity, he turned.
“That’s a nice feather you have there. Where did you find it?”
Hegg gave him a suspicious look.
“It’s mine,” he lisped in the way toothless men do.
“That I’m not contesting. Just as that dagger at your belt is mine. I merely wished to know where you found it. I have an eye for natural treasures.”
In answer, Hegg simply spat. He didn’t have the look of one who cared for aesthetics, only for trophies.
“You see,” Balagir pressed, “the feather reminds me very much of a beast I’ve encountered. You have heard of a haryek?” It didn’t at all, for the feather was orange with a lemon tip; still, he hoped Hegg would not know this. “I trust you did not find it nearby, since that could indicate a nest.”
“Aye. I found it nearby,” Hegg said, more interested by talk of beasts than beauty.
“You found it?”
Hegg scowled but affirmed with a distempered nod.
Balagir’s mind was put at ease. Besides, if they had come across his party, surely more than just a feather would have been taken.
“Well, you were fortunate not to have disturbed the nest,” he said, closing the subject and pulling away from the glowering ashen.