by Xenia Melzer
“I’m so sorry. I have disappointed you.”
Canubis stepped forward, placed a hand on Daran’s cheek, and smiled at him encouragingly.
“On the contrary, Echend’dim. Lukan has told me everything that happened. It was brave of you to stay with your men when you could have saved yourself by fleeing. I’m proud to call you the first of my eternal guard.”
The expressive brown eyes widened in surprise.
“But I’ve not only lost the carts but also the men! I’m not worth being anything, and much less the first. I wasn’t even able to free myself.”
“But you were working on it when we came, isn’t that so? Casto told me you were already armed. You could have escaped without our help. Regarding the men, even though losing them is painful, you can rest assured that they are now in the Green Lands with the Mothers. And the carts—Lukan is retrieving them right now. As you can see, there’s no reason for you to work yourself up. You’ve been through some rough times, Daran, but now things are back to normal, I promise.”
While saying these words, the Wolf of War extended his hands to the Echend’dim. After a short moment of insecurity, Daran grabbed them and nodded at his god in gratitude. Canubis patted his shoulder before he returned his attention to the prisoners and the question of whom he should spare. The pain he had glimpsed in Daran’s face hardened his heart.
Before he had to say a single word, his brother was already by his side, his gray eyes as steely and unbending as Canubis’s determination.
“They all die.”
The Angel of Death nodded. He had known his brother long enough to anticipate what he was planning. Together with Aegid and Kalad, he brought the whores and customers back into the house. They were locked in the room where Daran had met the sisters. Then the warriors left the building and Renaldo let the fire loose. Straight-faced, the Wolf of War watched as even the stones from the walls turned to ashes under his brother’s will. Seen from a larger perspective, it was still a merciful death he had bestowed on those who had been present when his Echend’dim had been tortured. The fire burned with such fury that the people in the house didn’t have to suffer; death had come too fast. Canubis had never been one for introspection. Punishing these people was only a logical reaction to something that had been done to him and his own. Without sparing another thought for his unlucky victims, he gave the order to depart.
WHEN THEIR entourage started moving, Casto stayed back. He glanced one last time at the still-smoking black earth where only moments before an entire house had been. The power of Renaldo’s fire terrified him anew every time he had to witness it, even though he was confronted with it almost every day. Knowing this power was his to command as well worried him more than he would ever admit and was one of the reasons he still couldn’t submit to the Barbarian wholeheartedly. Today, though, it was not only the demonstration of raw power that had him rattled. It was also the sliver of control he had felt. For a moment he had ridden the fire together with Renaldo, had experienced what it was like to have the flames obey his will. The implications overwhelmed him.
With a snort, Lys pried him from his gloomy thoughts. The stallion had been happy about their trip, even though the reason for it had been unpleasant, and now he wanted to have a good run to get things out of his system before they had to return to the enclosed space of the Valley. And even though—or perhaps because—he knew what the Barbarian would think of it, Casto went with his brother’s wish.
With a shrill, triumphant whinny, Lys started to run, leaving behind all sorrows and fears, living solely for the heady feeling when the wind ruffled their hair and his feet ate the leagues stretching in front of them.
After they had put some distance between them and their companions, Casto reined Lys in. They stopped at a thicket with some trees, about four leagues from the road that led to the Valley. Casto slipped off Lys’s back, unsure if he really wanted what he was about to do but also knowing he had no choice.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the fire inside him, Renaldo’s fire. As always, it felt like a torrent, something wild and untamed. Gingerly he reached out with his mind, grabbed a single flame, and drew it out. It felt strange, the way it coiled around his body, eager to become something bigger, to consume and to kill, yet controlled by his will. Casto opened his eyes, watched as the flame spread from his fingers, became a rope of heat, then curled around a branch in one of the trees. After a moment’s resistance, the branch fell to the ground with a deafening crack, where it then burned to ashes. Casto watched unblinking before he willed the fire back into himself.
When he turned to Lys, his face was an unreadable mask.
“The Barbarian mustn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”
Not before he had the time to ponder all the consequences of this shocking revelation.
PERCHED ON top of a thick fir tree, Lukan spied on the camp where the highwaymen who had raided the caravan were hiding. It was a good one, he had to admit. Only part of it was under the sky. Most of the living space had been built inside one of the caves that could be found in abundance around this part of the mountains. For two days they had followed the wolves, until the predators finally found the lair of the attackers. Against his will, Lukan was impressed. Judging from how they had fought, he had assumed the men were nothing but a loosely connected bunch of thugs. The camp he was staring at showed a different picture, though. It had the look of something well organized and lasting. He could even make out the hierarchical structure just from looking.
The top of the heap was definitely the sturdy, brutal man with the three tribal scars across his face. Wherever he went, he was met with the utmost fear. Given how violently he reacted to every little thing, Lukan was not surprised. There were a few other men who looked similar to the leader, with the same scars, sturdy build, and bronze-colored skin that placed them at the vicinity of the Hot Heart. Why they had chosen to come to the North, of all places, remained their secret for the time being.
The other members of the gang were from all walks of life, most of them definitely from around here, with the light skin and fair features of people from the North. Out of all of them, only one man dared to stand up against the leader, probably because they knew each other well, as far as Lukan could deduce from their body language. This man seemed to be the second-in-command and more approachable and generally more levelheaded than the leader. He, too, had three tribal scars across his face and an additional one on his throat. It made him look as if he had cheated death on purpose.
As silently as he had climbed the tree, Lukan retreated to discuss their further actions with Elua and the others. They had already decided to make their move tonight and had to work out the details. When he returned to their own small camp, Elua greeted him with raised brows.
“What took you so long? Were you caught up peeping?”
Lukan smiled broadly at his beloved wife. He could tell by her annoyed tone how incredibly relieved she was to have him back. And he enjoyed riling her up even more.
“Well, what can I say, it was kind of interesting. You know how much I love a good show.”
The blow hit him before he could duck out of reach.
“If I need someone to make a fool of me, I certainly won’t ask you. Now spill, what’s going on?”
Rubbing his bruised arm, Lukan sat down with the other mercenaries to give his report. Although he had led the occasional troop before, it felt different this time. Now he was no longer one of them, but one of the lords, an immortal. No matter how tightly the oaths of the Pack bound the warriors and the divine brothers, there was always a certain gap due to their inaccessible, eternal nature.
When Daran had become the first Echend’dim, it had caused quite the uproar among the mercenaries. They all had been anticipating this, what with Sic completing the ranks of the Emeris, and Canubis and Renaldo becoming full-fledged gods again. It was one of the many reasons joining the Pack was so attractive—if the time was ripe, the followers of the brothe
rs would become immortal as well, the eternal guard, Echend’dim. It was one of the few things the prophecies written by Dweian and Dria stated clearly, without the usual smoke-and-mirrors tactics where the Emeris and the hearts were concerned.
Unfortunately, the seers had forgotten to mention the little hook attached to this tempting offer—that one had to die first. As much as Lukan was glad to be among the chosen ones, he could have definitely gone without the experience of dying. It hadn’t been too painful, more like falling asleep when you desperately wanted to stay awake. No, the pain was not the problem. The real catch was the span of lying in darkness, waiting for the last embers of your will to live to wink out, only vaguely conscious of what was happening, if at all, and embracing the peace the shadows offered. It had been perfect bliss, a warm, tranquil feeling that was brutally pierced by Sic’s blinding light and his tempting voice. Lukan had heard before that in between the worlds, you saw things more clearly, and he prayed to the Mothers he would be able to forget one day what he had glimpsed of the Luksari then. For the first time in his life, he had been afraid of the light.
Lukan shook his head to get his mind back to the task at hand. Pondering the deeper meaning of what had happened to him had to wait until they were back in the Valley. Judging from his wife’s impatient face, he had already taken too long to answer her question.
“The good news is, there aren’t as many as we had thought. The bad news, though, is that they’re a lot better organized than is good for our mission. They have guards about thirty paces before the camp, then three more at the margins and two in front of the cave. Which leads us to the next problem. We don’t know how deep the cave runs, if it has any passageways to other caves, and how many people are hiding in there. I don’t think there’s going to be a nasty surprise, but we have to be ready. To top it off, you know that the Wolf of War wants them alive. Any suggestions?”
“Is there a chance to get close enough to put something into their food?”
The man suggesting this, Baldan, was the very definition of sneaky. He was also a mean fighter and trustworthy friend. His idea had a certain appeal that made Lukan inquire further.
“What do you have in mind?”
“On our way here, we passed several clearings with Green Moon flowers. Their seeds make people sleepy. Even if we can’t get everyone to consume them, many of them will be unable to even hear us when we’re binding them. Reduces the mess.”
“How long until the seeds take effect?”
“About half an hour, depending on how much they eat.”
“Sounds like a plan. But how do we get it into their food? They do have a common cooking place, but it’s right at the center. I don’t see any chance to get there.”
Elua had listened to the men’s discussion with a speculative glance on her face. Now she grinned. “Well, strictly speaking, we don’t have to get there. Only the seeds. Baldan, how are your shooting skills?”
Realization dawned on the assembled warriors. Baldan flexed his fingers. “As good as ever. And I feel like putting them to the test right now.”
Lukan patted him on the back. “It’s a deal. Let’s get the seeds and prepare everything. We still have to be cautious. I do not wish to disappoint the Wolf of War.”
DA’RYEN WATCHED as Nya approached him with a bowl of soup in her hands. When she served it to him, he took her hands in his, a sad smile on his lips.
“How many times do I have to tell you there’s no need for you to do this? You’re not my servant.”
Nya returned the smile a little awkwardly. She had just turned eleven and was way too serious for a child her age. Given what she’d had to endure, it was no surprise, though.
“But I like doing this for you, Da’Ryen. I was lonely when you were gone. You’re the only one here who would play with me.”
“Because I like our games. Tell me, how is your little baby doing?”
From her belt, Nya produced a bag in which a small poppet about the size of a man’s hand had been resting.
“She’s well. But she’s sleeping a lot. I think it’s because it’s fall. The cold doesn’t suit her.”
“Oh, how I feel with her. I don’t like the climate here as well. Perhaps we should go to the South where the sun always shines? What do you think? Feeling the heat on your skin would surely be great.”
Nya laughed. She knew as well as Da’Ryen that there was no way they could just leave Ma’Duk, but this game of pretend was all they both had, and so she participated wholeheartedly.
“I’m sure the baby would love it. And if we pack our things right now, we can leave first thing in the morning. How about it, Da’Ryen?”
The warrior pretended to think about her suggestion, then shook his head sadly.
“Tomorrow is bad. Remember, we wanted to go hunting. What would all the deer say if we just left them alone?”
“You’re right, as always. The deer come first. Perhaps we’ll go for the sun on another day.”
“Perhaps. But for the time being, come here. I’ll warm you until you can sleep.”
With a content sigh, the little girl snuggled into the bulky man’s arms, reveling in the heat his massive body emanated. She remembered this kind of warmth from before, from the time she used to call the dream. Then it had come from the woman with the gentle smile and soft hair. But the woman was gone; only the memory of the warmth had persevered.
DA’RYEN WOKE from an unpleasant pressure around his wrists. It took him only a brief moment to fully understand his situation. The oppressive feeling of oncoming doom he’d been having for weeks was now overwhelming. In a certain sense, he was even relieved that the time to answer for his sins had finally come.
Wiggling like a worm caught in a bird’s beak, he managed to get upright despite the ropes around his arms and feet. Next to him, Nya was lying, still fast asleep even though she was bound just like him. In the semidarkness he could see shadows moving silently around, immobilizing the sleepers. For a brief moment, Da’Ryen contemplated warning them, but by the look of it, it was already too late. Except for a handful, all of the warriors had been neutralized, so there was no way they could win over this silent, perfectly organized enemy. Deep in his heart, the tribe warrior had already realized who these people were, even though a last glimmer of hope prevented him from accepting the truth.
Now that every member of the gang was secured, the attackers lit some torches and started carrying their prey outside, where they lined them up like merchandise while some of them prepared the carts for departure. So the Wolf of War wanted them alive. The thought sent shivers down Da’Ryen’s spine. Even though he didn’t believe all the stories told about this powerful warlord, there was no doubt that at least some of them contained a grain of truth. Given how outrageous the reports about his cruelty were, Da’Ryen had no illusions about what was awaiting them. And they did deserve punishment, if not for stealing from other people, then for all the other sins they had committed. His own were engraved in his soul, gnawing on him like rats on a corpse, never allowing him to rest. It was almost funny, how far he had run to escape them only to meet his just punishment in the icy lands of the North.
Judging from the hard, unrelenting features of the mercenaries, Da’Ryen didn’t expect his last days on Ana-Darasa to be peaceful. Next to him, Nya stirred in her sleep, reminding him of the sole responsibility he still had. When a harsh-looking woman came to load the girl on one of the carts, he risked talking to her.
“Please, I know why you’re here, but she’s only a child. She has nothing to do with this. Could you at least untie her? I don’t want her to wake up bound like this.”
The woman glared at him so coldly, Da’Ryen winced.
“Child or not, she’s with you, so we have no reason to treat her differently. You can try pleading your case with Canubis once we get to the Valley, but I doubt he’ll be very open to your request. And now shut up before I decide to take your tongue.”
She bent down to pick
Nya up. Da’Ryen watched as the mercenary with the two long daggers in her belt put the girl down very gently and even wrapped her in some furs to keep her warm. The act was so contradictory to the female’s words, it left Da’Ryen completely puzzled.
CROSSROADS
1. MASKS
“NOOOO!”
Panting, Daran jolted awake, trembling all over and darting panicked looks around the room. He was glad the hissing sound of the iron bar coming toward his face had obviously been a dream, but he still had trouble reining in his violently beating heart. When he managed to at least even his breathing, he dared to glance sideways to see if his nightmare had woken Kalad and Aegid. His heart fell. Both warriors were staring at him, and even though it was almost dark, he could see—and, even worse, feel—their worry for him. Embarrassed, he turned away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Daran, come here.”
Kalad grabbed the thief’s hand to pull him down on the furs between him and Aegid. A determined streak appeared on his lips, and his eyes shone bright in the gloom.
“Don’t you think it’s time to tell us what these despicable worms have done to you?”
Violently, Daran freed his hand from the warrior’s grasp. “I can’t. Not yet. Please be patient with me.”
Aegid sighed. “We don’t want to pressure you, little thief. But believe me, the longer you wait, the worse it gets. You know you can trust us, don’t you?”
Tears were staining Daran’s eyes when he nodded. “I know. And I really want to tell you. But the words stay stuck in my throat whenever I want to get them out. It’s as if I’m still there, unable to break free.”
Kalad stroked his head in a soothing gesture. “It’s fine, sweet one. Take your time. You have to forgive us for being so forward. It makes us furious to see you like this, knowing we can’t help you at all. We’ve never felt so helpless before.”