"The Kith have fought the Vile for longer than anyone can remember," Tihamtu replied. "Still we remain, and every day we slay more monsters. This is why we live, why we are blessed with the Sharyukin. You don't see the danger, Ibilsin, because it hasn't found you yet. Who in your tribe has spoken to a loud man? How many of them have crossed your lands? None, and none. Then how could you speak for the tribes that face the threat today? Already we feel their presence like a weight on our chests. And there are but a handful! More keep coming on their burning ships, year after year. If you wait until they come to you, once they are so many they can find you all the way by the mountains, you will be all that remains of the Kith. Will you then stand alone against the horde?"
Ibilsin stood before the assembly, chest heaving, silent. Every second eroded his support, and he knew it. When he finally opened his mouth, Azial cringed in anticipation.
Mocking laughter echoed through the circle before the chief could speak. Sentinels looked around in confusion. "Who laughs?" Ibilsin shrieked.
As if in answer, something flew out of the darkness of the trees and landed in the middle of the circle. Azial's heart beat faster as concern and excitement warred inside him.
He knew that laugh.
Chapter Five
Seruya sat unseen among the foliage of a tall blackwood tree, cloaked in her hair as she watched pompous Ibilsin make a fool of himself before the other chiefs. While he gaped like a fish, she readied her trophy. She timed her laughter to deny him any attempt to save face, then hurled the severed head through the trees. Before it struck the ground, she took off, leaping silently from branch to branch, sliding between the leaves. While everyone tried to decipher what had landed in the circle, she burst from the darkness to land on a thick vine that had grown through the entrance to the Circle to form a rough arch. Her hair had settled around her body when the first shouts of warning went up.
She stood and looked down on the assembly. Something warm reached in to touch her heart as she locked eyes with her brother for the first time in too many years. He tried hard to suppress a smirk as Tihamtu spared glances in his direction to make sure that he would.
"Listen to your arguing!" she said. "The panther prowls in your village, and you can't even agree that he's a killer. I killed that man and more like him this afternoon, less than a two hour run from here." She looked down over her shoulder, at the young Sharyukin she'd told to wait outside the entrance. "Come!" she barked.
Makru and Engur shuffled forward, too mortified to affect pride. The gathering murmured, but none had yet demanded her departure. A good sign. "The noisy pigs found these two warriors of the Nin-muk tribe. They offered them weapons. Tell them what they demanded in return!"
Makru kept his head down. Engur muttered something.
"Speak with respect before the chiefs!" Seruya snapped.
"Our blades," he yelped. "They wanted to see our blades."
"And he was tempted!" Seruya thundered on the heels of his admission. "For a worthless trinket that couldn't scratch a Vile's hide! This is the enemy, chiefs of the Kith! This is what he will do to you! Take your strength and give you his weakness. Why, if not to conquer you? Why weaken you, if not to strengthen himself?"
Even the frogs and the crickets seemed to fall silent as the gathering processed what they had just heard. Ibilsin took an uncertain step forward, too shocked to hide the dismay on his face. "Engur... is there any lie here?"
To his credit, the young warrior drew himself up and said, "No, Ibilsin. I accept my shame."
Balbasu stood. "To all gathered here, I will say this: these two youths are of the Kith. The same as all of us. It could be anyone's sons standing before us, and anyone who believes otherwise is a coward who saps our strength. If we leave the Circle tomorrow before acting on our own behalf, we deserve whatever fate comes to us."
Nods and assenting murmurs all around. Ibilsin came forward and descended into the Circle to stand before his young warriors. The words they exchanged were too quiet to hear, but Seruya saw in the stunned chief's face an honest desire to understand why they had erred so severely. The sight gave her hope. She'd left out any mention of the loud men's attempt to capture the two warriors, partly because only she had witnessed it, but mostly because she'd expected a stronger response to the loud men's interest in the Kith's sacred defense against the Vile.
"Banished. Your words are timely, but they don't change your sentence," Tihamtu said, his voice reclaiming the attention of the gathered. "You are forbidden to come to this place."
The old, rancid bitterness in her chest boiled to life again. She disguised it with an insolent chuckle. "Then go ahead, Tihamtu. Send your warriors against me. Lots of young ones this time." She locked eyes with one close to her, and shot him a toothy grin. "Do you think you can match me, wood babe? Come, then!" She clacked her teeth. The Sharyukin jerked back before he caught himself, then glanced at his comrades.
"Don't worry, great chief. I've done what I had to do, so I will leave. But you can't get rid of me. I'll be around, to do everything you lack the stomach to do. Don't forget me, chiefs of the Kith. I won't forget you, and I'll be watching." She leaped into the night, immediately hidden by the trees. Despite her words, she circled around the structure and stayed to hear what would be said.
As she'd hoped and expected, no one had much left to say. Each of the chiefs endorsed Azial's proposal, even the critics, followed by a great cheer from all present. She clung to her sense of satisfaction, and tried to ignore the aching hole inside her chest as she watched her kin prepare the feast and listened to them celebrate.
One last task before she could leave. She found a better vantage point and waited for one individual to walk away from the gathering.
"Azial! Drink!" Balbasu said as he stepped into Azial's path, two bowls of fermented milk in his hands. The Yahua chief drank deep from one as he held out the other for Azial to take.
Azial accepted the bowl and drank, hiding his resentment at the interruption. Balbasu had supported him thus far, but he was a proud man who expected to be humored. "I thank you for your words tonight. Giving Ibilsin's shame to all the Kith allowed him to offer his support and still keep his pride."
Balbasu rested a huge hand on Azial's shoulder and gave him an intent stare. "If you didn't kill Vile so well, you could have been the next chief of the Udaki. Your mind looks deep, and when you speak, you look for the part of your audience that wants to listen. How is Musuri?"
"He's well. He's been apprenticed as a hunter."
An approving nod. "He'll do well, especially if he inherited your steady hand. I was young once, and like most, I hoped the blood would show itself in me. I know there's a part of him that wishes he could follow in your footsteps, but he'll grow out of that. I expect he will become a strong man, and proud." Something shifted in the chief's small eyes, and Azial knew he looked into the past. "Have I told you of my sons?"
"You've spoken of them before," Azial said, knowing the chief would tell him anyway, as he always did. "Many others remember their courage."
"The Vile took them all. Some in battle, some by the seed. Dagan, my youngest son... I lost him just a year ago." Balbasu shook his head. "Tamzi is all that remains of my line. My only daughter. I always thought I would keep her until a strong Sharyukin offered to be her husband, someone who could keep her safe. But I see Musuri has a strong heart." He smiled. "And a strong father. I know you would protect her well."
Azial carefully filtered the spike of joy he felt into a grateful smile. "You are kind, Balbasu. Musuri often speaks of his devotion to your daughter. I think a union between them would bring much happiness to our tribes."
Balbasu straightened. "If they desire such a union, I will give my blessing for their future."
Azial bowed from the waist. "I will tell Musuri of your generous approval. I'm sure he will propose to Tamzi the next time they meet."
The chief delivered a bone-shaking slap to his shoulder. "I look forward t
o welcoming your son into my family. Let's go spread the good news!"
"I will join you after I relieve myself." Azial hoped his excuse wasn't too transparent.
"Of course." Balbasu gave no sign of suspicion and turned away to rejoin the crowd. Azial slipped away before anyone else could stop him.
Seruya watched Azial slip down the hillside as she followed him through the trees. He stopped behind a tall blackwood, and she landed before him.
Azial gave her a nod. "Sister. I'm glad you're well," he said in the old tongue.
She'd taught him the language decades ago, when the notion of not sharing everything with her brother had been unthinkable, even if it meant defying strict instructions. That he still recalled the medicine men's tongue, despite lacking someone to practice with, filled her with warmth. She tried to show the feeling in her smile, but she felt the fatigue drag at her expression. "I still live. So do you, somehow, even though you crash through the jungle like a rhino. How is your family?"
"Well. Musuri is going to be a hunter. He'll marry Tamzi soon. No other children yet."
"Has Merodakh chosen another successor yet?"
Azial smiled. "No. He insists on his initial choice. It irritates the Elders."
Silence. Seruya looked for something else to say, unwilling to get to the point and speed the conversation along.
Azial said, "Your arrival today was well-timed. I don't think Ibilsin and Azriyahu would have agreed if you hadn't spoken."
"They were blind fools, but today they saw the light. You've done good work. It's a good beginning." She hesitated. "You haven't forgotten our oath. I haven't either."
"I never will," Azial said at once. His breath caught, then resumed as he pressed his lips together. Her imagination told her everything he wanted to say, but wouldn't.
It was a small comfort, but more than she'd had in a long time. "I have to leave for a while."
"Where are you going?"
His concerned tone summoned another smile. "I don't know yet. Something strange is happening. The Vile don't attack me anymore. One came within striking range today, but it fled as soon as I noticed it."
Her brother frowned. "Was it injured?"
"No. And this wasn't the first time. It started months ago, after I killed eight that attacked together." Azial's eyes widened and she chuckled coldly. "I didn't collect these talons from the forest floor, brother. A lone Sharyukin with no village to retreat to makes a tempting target. Or so they once thought. After that attack, they began to flee from me."
Azial looked away, and Seruya knew he wondered if he'd be able to do what she had. She neglected to tell him about the deep scars hidden by her hair, the days following the frantic battle when she'd hidden under the roots of a massive blackwood, shivering with fever and expecting to die. Better to let him believe she'd beaten them with ease.
Staring into the jungle, he said, "Do you think they stopped attacking you from fear?"
She scowled. "Vile don't fear. They think, and plan. They band together, attack from different directions, and retreat when pressed. If they can do that, they can decide a victim isn't worth the effort." She hesitated. "Did Merodakh ever tell you the tale of the Vile's origins?"
He shook his head.
"The Deliverer took our ancestors to Paradise out of pity for their misery, but he wasn't the only god living there. His gifts to us made one of them jealous. That one wanted his own chosen people. He's the one who molded the Vile from stone and fire. His envy turned his creations into monsters that steal life. His failure angered him, so he let them loose and they destroyed Paradise. The medicine men call him the Magus, but they rarely speak his name."
Azial had turned back to her while she spoke, consternation furrowing his brow. "I thought the Vile were demons from the underworld. Isn't that where they were summoned from?"
"The truth is as I just told you. The knowledge is secret, because the Magus's workshop still exists, guarded by the Vile. If someone found it, they could make more monsters. Worse ones." She crossed her arms. "I'm going to look for it."
The look on his face made it clear part of him doubted her. "How will you find it? And why would you want to?"
"If they were made there, I might learn how to destroy them. Ibilsin's concern isn't all contrived. If we muster to fight the loud men, the Vile may take advantage and attack. If they won't fight me, I can travel and search safely. When you and I traveled to the mountains, we fought legions of monsters together, but when we reached the mountains, they left us alone. We thought they were trials on our journey to the truth, but what if they just meant to drive us off?"
Azial gave a slow nod. "You think we were approaching this workshop. You may be right. But these are legends, and you don't know what you'll find there. And even if the Vile don't attack you now, they may keep you from entering this place."
"It's worth taking a risk," she said. "Besides, with the agreement between the chiefs, you won't need me here. For a short while, at least." She gave a sardonic half-smile. "I'm sure they'll keep their word for a few weeks."
Azial looked uncomfortable. "You really think someone will violate the agreement?"
"People are people. They see what is right before them, and little else. Don't trust them, brother. Not even Tihamtu." She half-expected him to challenge her. His thoughtful silence meant more to her than she knew how to explain. "Take care of our people. I will return."
"I will. And see that you do."
She disappeared into the trees, her heart lighter than it had been in years.
*****
Commander Miron was relieved to find the mess hall deserted. He shuffled over to the food dispensers along the short end of the rectangular compartment, too tired even to wince at the pulsing ache in his back. Every breath fled his body like it was his last.
The machine worked for a few seconds before offering him a steaming bowl of green sludge. With the fishy smell crawling up his nose, he took the bowl and made his way to one of the dozen rectangular tables. As he sat down to eat, something clattered to the floor behind him. He scoffed and shook his head. He'd grown immune to such simple distractions weeks ago.
Sitting on the hard bench sharpened the pain in his back, no matter how he shifted his position. Groaning, he got up and returned to the dispenser area. Just around the corner of the bulky machine, he found a spot where he could sit on the floor and rest his back against the bulkhead. He'd barely swallowed the first mouthful of wrack when the door opened.
"―better be seriously relevant. I was sleeping. Actually sleeping."
Miron recognized the deep voice of Gugal, the even-tempered gunner. His view was blocked by the closest table, but he heard multiple sets of boots on the deck.
"It's important, all right? Come on, sit down right here. You, too." The high, tense voice belonged to Osip, the navigator.
"If you ask me if I want a drink, I'm going to punch your face in. Fair warning. Get to the fucking point." That was Yegor, Operations/Communications officer.
"We just want to talk to you," said a female voice he couldn't place.
Yegor said, "So talk."
"Okay. We all know the situation we're in," Osip said. "Ghosts in the corridors, the ship falling apart, and the mighty Commander who doesn't think twice about losing a couple thousand fleet hands. We don't know where we're going, or why."
"What's so different about that?" Gugal cut in. "Besides, you do know where we're going. You plotted the course."
"But I don't know what's there, dipshit," Osip snapped. "You know what I mean. Let me tell you something I heard from Core Chief Nazar. Last year, they sent an entire fleet out this way."
"Right here? The exact same place we're going to?" Yegor said.
"The same general area," Osip sputtered. "That's not the point. That whole fleet disappeared. Gone. No survivors, and no explanation."
"Damn," Gugal muttered.
Miron quietly ate another spoonful and wondered where Nazar had come by such cl
assified information, even if he was wrong about where it happened. The anomaly known as the Cauldron was nowhere near their destination.
"So why do you think we're out here now?" Osip said.
"Enlighten me," Yegor said.
A hand slapped the table. "We're looking for them! And with man-a-day Miron in charge, we'll probably find out exactly what happened to them, because it's going to happen to us."
"I don't like where you're going with this, Osip," Gugal said, his tone flat. "And I heard a different story about where we're going. Some people say we're going back to Nadir."
"It doesn't matter," the woman said, and he now recognized Oksana by the lilt in her voice. "We're still out here by ourselves. We're just fodder to him. Did you know he sent an entire squadron on a suicide mission, less than two months before we left? They all died. Every last one. Does he look bothered to you?"
What did the bitch want from him? Weeping and wailing? He considered revealing his presence and shutting her and Osip down, but he was interested in what else they might say, and too tired to do the confrontation justice.
"So you don't like the Commander. So what?" Gugal said. "He's in charge, that's just how it is. You always happy with all your officers?"
"It's more than that," Osip insisted. "Everybody can see we should turn around. It's obvious we have no chance. But he won't do it. If Supreme Command knew about our situation, you better believe they'd order us back. But he won't do it, because he's insane! And even worse, he and Borya go way back. Nazar said Miron used to be Ship Master on Borya's flagship, back when he was a Commander. They're the same way." Osip changed his tone: "The Master Second, she gets it. She knows how it is. Don't you think that means something?"
Miron had been waiting for Gervasi's name to come up. His heart rate quickened.
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