Tanayon Born

by Hausladen, Blake;

  burn blood man

  Nothing happened.

  Parsatayn.

  He was nearby and had drawn the Shadow away yet again. I cursed my stupidity. I’d not held onto the darkness and there was nothing left of it for my song to find, so it failed.

  The first pikemen stabbed me hard upon my sternum. His pike head bounced off my breastplate, and he lost his grip on it from the shock.

  “You have the right weapons to open this can, but you do not know how to use them.”

  The disarmed man did not think to flee, and I smashed in his decorative helmet with a swipe of the steel butt of my poleaxe. He fell, and I stepped into the mix. They poked and thumped at my armor as though they held clubs and spears. None tried to bind me up with the heads of their pikes. The spike atop my long poleaxe was made for stabbing holes in mail, and I ended one useless man after another. I stole the sweetness of their death onto myself and hurried to gather more.

  ‘Sing, my son. Make them burn.’

  They did not deserve such a vivid ending. I refused my Father, worked to pierce their flesh, and stomped up the stairs. Terror seized them. They dropped their weapons and froze in place. I laughed and tore up through them. Each panicked scream was a kiss. Each death, an exalted climax.

  I made it up into the nave. Avin stayed upon the stairs. Ryat chased after me, searching still perhaps, for his glorious end. Or had he already found it?

  “What verb did he give you?” I asked.

  “Terrify,” he said. “You do not want it.”

  The nave was quiet. Ryat needed a moment to steady himself.

  “How did you learn the nouns? The animal names you saved me with?”

  He worked to catch his breath, and I imagined his father, freezing to death on a caribou hunt while a wife and son waited with empty bellies at home—wolves closing in.

  “Wood carvings,” he said. “Of all things, right? My great uncle broke his leg on a hunt and spent a summer carving a half-dozen toys for me. I slept with them. One morning while my wooden cougar and lynx were fighting with my wolf, bear, and caribou, the words poured, in one after another.”

  “Just like that?” I asked, and he nodded.

  “Geart!” Avin cried. “Look out!”

  A bright light shown around me. Ryat screamed and stumbled back down the stairs.

  I snatched the darkness to myself and pushed the Spirit of the Earth as far away as I could. The song of fire meant to consume me failed, and the white light was extinguished.

  Parsatayn and five more Ashmari stood in the sunny entrance.

  “Thank you, Chancellor. Your men made a fine meal,” I said and struck with all the might my Father had gifted me.

  draw mercury

  All of the lesser Ashod sank to their knees. Parsatayn’s defenses held.

  I abandoned my song, and we warred over the darkness of the city. He was better at drawing it, so I was left with less.

  The Shadow’s whispering became a great laugh.

  Parsatayn began to sing. I tightened the darkness around myself into a hardened shell, but his magic was not aimed at me.

  bind heal mercury bone soul man

  His teetering Ashod recovered as the mercury was absorbed back into their bones.

  They started toward me through the center of the nave. They were things of nightmares—undead minions of a dark and hateful Spirit. They pulled savagely upon my shell of darkness as they came. I needed to spend it, or they would take it and burn me.

  ‘Die, druids of Edonia,’ my Father said with a laugh. ‘Lay yourself down and die.’

  The words drew my eyes to the old stones of the cathedral. They were from Edonia. What song would bring them down?

  I did not need either of the Spirits to give me the words. Ryat and Lilly had taught them to me.

  I sang but it was not the song the Shadow hoped to hear.

  granite rest

  White light enveloped me, hot and clean. The Shadow screamed, the dark and homesick stone high above groaned once, and the cathedral fell inward upon the Ashmari with a deafening roar.

  A great wave of dust and stone flung me back down the stairs like a boy’s tin soldier.

  83

  Sikhek

  My condition had changed. Had the leeches finally ended me? Death at last, it seemed, in the dark grip of the vile river.

  “Daddy, I’m cold,” she said to me as her blood poured along my arms. Her hair shimmered in the sun, and she smelled of the fine soap I’d taught her to make.

  I pushed the knife deeper, and it pierced her heart. Her blood gushed down and mixed with the blood of my wives, sons, and all the thousands of Vesteal that murdered and tortured each other around me.

  Other Vesteal waited to sing the song that would trap my soul inside my body. A song that I had crafted.

  The small body slid free of my arms and struck the bloody pool. I stepped over her, opened my veins, and laid in the blood of the Vesteal’s great sacrifice.

  The Song of the Hessier began, and I fell away into darkness.

  It was I who had killed her. It was my knife that stole my daughter from the world—sacrificed for my dreams of power.

  My flesh tingled. This was not the release of death. I remained in the unending prison of my flesh.

  I did not deserve the life left in me.

  “Master, wake up,” a voice urged as my eyes and ears reformed. It tickled oddly—arms and legs, lungs, even teeth.

  “Where am I?” I gargled with a misshapen but capable tongue.

  The man said, “Master, it is Dekay. You are outside your chamber beneath the treasury. I brought mercury from your cinnabar mines in Aneth. Lord Vall is dead. Rahan has taken the throne but is trapped here in the Treasury Keep by Yarik and the Hurdu. Prince Barok is here as well. I—”

  “Take me to the prince,” I said.

  “Master, the chamber—your mercury. It could restore you.”

  “The Ashmari stole it. Take me to Barok, now.”

  “You are … unsightly. He might kill you.”

  “Death is the ending I seek, loyal Dekay. You have done all I could ask—have been loyal beyond measure. I am a corrupt and vile being. It is time for the Vesteal to rid the world of my creation.”

  My reforming eyes opened. The old man wept. His gnarled hands rested upon my chest. He had used himself up to preserve me.

  “Dekay,” I said. “There can be salvation for you yet. Come. Take me to the prince. I will set your soul free. You will join Her, my friend. You deserve much more than the Hessiers’ path to damnation.”

  “There is no salvation for you or I,” he said with sudden anger and thumped me again and again with his pitiful old fists. “I am a beast—a destroyer of love and happiness. You taught these things to me, Sikhek. The Ashmari remain in Bessradi. They will have Zoviya, and they will feast upon the Vesteal if we do not stop them. We are the Spirit of the Earth’s avengers. Broken, evil, ugly, and old, but we are all that She has. You will rise, and you will fight. All the evil you have done—you owe. You owe the world your last breath. Rise, you demon. Rise and help me fight Him!”

  I laughed dryly. A true laugh at the comedy of the old man’s flailing. A struggle remained, and he was right. It did not matter how we arrived for it.

  “Stop, friend,” I said. “You have fight enough for the whole world. Help me up. You have convinced me.”

  We rose and crawled our way up out of the terrible pit. My eyesight improved. My hands sprouted the stumps of a few fingers, but no more. Dekay’s gift of mercury could only go so far.

  The dungeons were quiet—empty. Above us was a great commotion. Men were dying, and Barok was in their midst.

  “Hurry,” I said, and we scrambled up into the keep. The soldiers there leveled their spears at us and called for others.

  “Chaukai,” I said, “the Spirit of the Earth is in danger. Take me to Prince Barok.”

  The captain amongst them kept coming with a war hammer in hand. I tri
ed to take hold of him with my power, but I was too weak to affect a Chaukai. His brow creased into fierce lines as he stomped toward me.

  “You are a Furstundish,” I said, and he paused. “Your family saved the world the day I sacked Katat. You must save the world again today, Captain. The prince is threatened by the Ashmari that remain in Bessradi, and only I can stop them. Take me to him, or all is lost.”

  The old captain pinned me against the wall by the throat, smashed my nose with the hilt of his sword, and jammed its point through my cheek and up into my mouth. I nearly lost consciousness.

  “Speak or use your magic again without my permission, and we will end you,” he said, and I nodded.

  He hefted me up by the arm and dragged me across the courtyard toward the barbican. Dead and injured men filled the space inside. A number of the arilas were there—and a woman.

  She was utterly free of the Shadow as if she were an extension of the Spirit. I could hardly look at her. She raced up a flight of stairs, and we followed. The prince and others were there.

  “Is that Sikhek?” he asked and aimed his sword at me, but the question went unanswered.

  My words froze in my throat as a darkness gripped me.

  The Shadow.

  He was awake, and He was there—summoned up into the city like never before. The ground shook, and the city yelled out in fright.

  And then the Shadow was gone, as if scared away by what He’d found. The city fell silent.

  Dekay and the rest were sprawled around me. I climbed up to see what had happened to my city.

  The Tanayon was no more.

  The prince and the rest rose and looked with me at the great cloud of dust that marked where my cathedral once stood. I could sense other things moving beneath the cloud.

  “Geart is there,” I said.

  “He is alive?” Barok asked. “Are you certain?”

  The Chaukai were nodding as if they could feel his presence as well. These were not Kyoden’s Chaukai.

  I said to Barok, “Yes. He is badly wounded. And there is another. Parsatayn survived. He is moving after Geart. Quickly, Barok, I can fight him and the rest of the Ashmari. Heal me, and I will rid us of them once and for all.”

  “Heal you? Trust you? I will never trust a Hessier.”

  “I am more than a Hessier, Prince Barok. I was born and I remain a Vesteal. I was the first who was made Hessier. It was my axe that killed Kyoden and destroyed Edonia. I was the Shadow’s own hand. But my will is my own now. It is the Spirit of the Earth I serve. A draught of your blood is all I require. Heal me, and I will defeat our enemies.”

  Barok aimed his sword at my eye. The woman stepped between us.

  “No,” she said. “He is Vesteal. That much is true. He is connected to Her—same as you.”

  “I will not give you my blood. Not now, not ever.” he said to me and then asked her, “Can you get us up river? We must rescue Geart.”

  I said to him, “You must abandon him if you cannot fight the Ashmari. They will feast upon you. You must retreat and warn the other Vesteal.”

  “There are no others,” he said and glared at me before starting down.

  No others?

  “Wait,” I said. “All the world hangs by mere threads, and you charge off into the jaws of the beast?” He did not listen, and I shouted after him, “Vesteal! Must we always charge into the flames? Do not do this.”

  The men there seemed to know their lord’s weakness, but the day had taken its toll on them. They had only the strength to follow him.

  “Help me,” I said to Dekay. “Hurry. We must do what we can.”

  Dekay supported me as best he could, and the injured old captain hobbled along with us after the prince.

  84

  Evand Yentif

  The Battle of Priests’ Field

  The strangling grip of the Hessier let go of me as fast as it had come. I got hold of my spear and pushed myself off the ground through the lingering menace. I staggered and leaned upon the spear.

  My ears were filled with screams. I thumped my temple with my palm to try and shake off the effects of injury and magic, but the horrible sound would not go away.

  I was the first to stand. I thought I spotted Marrow, but rider-less Akal-Taks were everywhere.

  What had happened to the men of the 3rd? I closed my eyes.

  Please, God, not this. You can’t mean to take so many so cruelly. You cannot! Lord Bayen, please, no!

  I opened my eyes onto hell. The young men of the 3rd lay broken upon the stone. The magic had taken them at full gallop. They’d toppled to the ground and were trampled by their own horses—2,000 men.

  Others began to stand up around me.

  “Brothers, rally,” I said. The last of the cold bite left my flesh, and I started toward the wounded. I flung my spear aside and waved the men in. “Rally, man down, rally!”

  The loyal Hemari and companies of the 1st were getting to their feet. A few started toward me.

  “Help me,” I said and waved them on.

  A man from the 1st thought to put his spear in me, but his will was not in it. I got hold of the shaft, yanked it out of his hands, and slapped the man across the face. “Help me, damn it, our brothers have fallen.”

  The screaming would not stop.

  Still, he and the rest stood stupidly. He held his smarting face and pointed up over my shoulder.

  “The Tanayon has fallen,” the captain behind him said, and we all looked to the spot where the tall spire had been all our lives. All that remained was a rising column of dust.

  I turned from it. Bayen and his house were of no use to me.

  I stepped into the ranks, grabbed the captain there, and pulled him out toward my sergeant. “Get hold of these horses,” I said. “Send riders down every street in the Servants’ and Merchants’ Quarter and snatch the healers from every tithe tower and street healer’s clinic.”

  Still they fixed for a fresh fight.

  “Let the sound of the screaming into your ears!” I shouted to them. “The Hessier remain, and they mean for us to murder each other. I say to hell with the Hessier, and to hell with Bayen. To hell with any priest who demands payment for that which is our right! Come, all of you, and help me save our brothers.”

  The captain tore his insignia from his sleeve and leapt onto an errant horse. “You heard him! Get a horse and find a healer. Today they pay us back!”

  The captain’s sergeants were the next to move, and then the rest surged forward. Men leapt to horses and started away in every direction. Some would desert, but they were not men.

  Kalyn drew our horses in through the mix and handed me Marrow’s reins. His sword and spear were clear—as I’d ordered they stay.

  He asked, “Shall I attempt to deliver your message to Rahan now?”

  “Not unless you can fly over the Hurdu,” I said and pointed him at the tithe tower to our southeast, instead. “Take ten men and seize that tower. I need eyes on the city.”

  He went, and I ran with others toward the wounded.

  The forward edge of the 3rd was a quiet carpet of broken bodies and blood. Beyond them were the men who could still scream. They were chewed upon by iron hooves and gripped their crushed shoulders and faces.

  “Get them out of their armor,” I said. “Bandages!”

  The years of service and training took over. A hundred officers added their voices to mine. We laid the tortured men out upon the practice field and did what we could for them.

  Below us, a column of Hurdu and another body of men from the 1st started out through the Palace Bridge gatehouse. It was General Sonsol and Prince Yarik. They’d come to take command of the Hemari. Rahan’s pennant was still up, and they’d hoped to use the 1st and 3rd to dislodge him.

  It was too far away to hear, but Yarik did a great deal of yelling and pointed Sonsol up the field at us.

  Sonsol was wise enough not to give an order that would be disobeyed. His men would not make our hospital a ba
ttlefield, nor was his half company enough to challenge our 3,000. He withdrew to the calls and whistling of the Hemari.

  He’d be back, and he’d make it my turn to flee. I needed to hold there until the healers arrived and I could move in good order.

  “Encamp the hill, on the quick,” I ordered. Sergeants took over, and the ready kit of that day’s assembly was put to use. A thousand men set shovels to the earth, and by the time the fortification began to take shape around us, Bessradi was starting to move with more vigor. People were back in the streets, smoke was starting to rise from the direction of the Chancellery, and my riders began to return with healers.

  “Will you pay my fee?” the senior of them asked me. “This man refuses.”

  I fixed my fists into his robes and pulled him close. “There will be no more fees, and you are no longer a simple priest. Today you joined the service of Exaltier Rahan Yentif as a recruit.”

  “Sergeant,” I called to the nearest, and handed the man off. “Find these boys proper gear. They wish to join the ranks of the Hemari.”

  The men laughed, slapped the priests’ backs, and shook their hands.

  “But, sir,” the priest stammered. “We are healers.”

  “And soon you will also be soldiers,” I told him. “Now go see to the worst of the wounded. You will be remembered for the quality of the work you do today.”

  Sergeants with blood upon their hands took hold of these men, and the recruits did not make the mistake of saying another word. The wash of blue light began to grace the field.

  My breastworks got higher, and more healers arrived and learned their fate while the Hurdu assembled below. They’d not get across our trenches with their heavy horse, but they were dismounting with poleaxe and shield. They’d push me off the field soon.

  A murmuring brought men’s work to a halt. Rahan’s pennant was coming down. I leaned on my spear and banged the butt end upon the field. A new one did not go up and smoke began to obscure the view.