Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

“A city, sure.”

  “Yes, the ruling seat of the Duchy of Medor, held by the Kederan family for the past century and half. But the Duke of Medor is old, grown used to plush chairs, and is of little concern. Your first worry will be the Bishop of Sin Medor, last I knew she was a dull but persistent knife by the name of Postrel. The Bishop serves as the Overseer, acting liaison between the Duke and His High Grace Lomik the Fourth, who will be the real problem.”

  Ivin groaned. “Another priest?”

  “Get accustomed to it, and be grateful it’s the Hidreng you’re dealing with. Pulvuer is their deity amongst the Hokandit Pantheon.”

  “Is he like Sol, the king of their gods?”

  “The king’s son. Argin was the king, but he was murdered along with his wife by his daughter, Fikeze, during the God Wars, or so they say. Pulvuer is Fikeze’s half-brother, and they are at war.”

  “So not only do I have to worry about the politics of mortals, I have to slog my way through bickering false gods?”

  She laughed. “They are one and the same in the Hundred Kingdoms, but it is the words of men you will have to find peace with. The Hidreng have a standing army, armored cavalry… they need them to survive. They won’t want to waste warriors and supplies on killing your people, but tread soft.”

  Ivin nodded. He’d heard the stories of the hundred Tek kingdoms that stretched a thousand horizons to the south, of sprawling cities and armies counting into the tens of thousands, of single battles which counted the dead in numbers greater than the population of any Fost. There would be no war, no serious battle, the Silone could win on Hidreng ground.

  The rowboat took them east of Inster’s docks, weaving through fishing boats until the Luxun’s put up their oars and jumped into the surf with bare feet and calves, unflinching in cold waters. They hauled the boat to rest on the graveled beach, making certain it didn’t rock and tip as they disembarked.

  “Tengkur!” Kinesee yelled as the goat dashed between Ivin’s legs and hop-skipped down the beach, and Alu grabbed Kinesee’s cloak to keep her from giving chase, but the goat didn’t escape for long, returning to butt Ivin in the leg.

  Ivin chuckled. “I’m not the only one happy to step on solid ground.”

  A chaotic encampment of crude tents spread up and down the coast as far as his eye could see. Several Hidreng traders stood in impromptu shops hawking salt, canvas, and other vitals, including alcohol. No doubt profit was one motive, but keeping all these people out of the small city was another.

  “We should find my brother.” He spotted a horse weaving through the tents with Roplin in its saddle before his thought finished, and he wasn’t alone. The Wolverine and Eredin rode on either side of a small wagon right behind Roplin, and none other than Rinold steered the team.

  “A squirrel driving a wagon? You got a load of nuts back there?”

  “Ratsmasher! Good to see you, boy. I’m sure there was plenty of critters to stomp aboard ship.”

  In the back of the wagon a pile of furs moved, and in a flicker Rikis’ face gazed at him. He was pale, more pale because of his shaved beard, but his eyes shown with a determination regained since sailing from the Watch.

  Roplin dismounted and pounded Ivin’s shoulders in an embrace. “Where’s Eliles?”

  Ivin stifled his emotions with tight lips. “She stayed behind to stop the Shadows.”

  “I thought she… I’m sorry.”

  “Never mind that, I’ll explain later.” He let go of Roplin and trotted to the wagon’s side and shook his eldest brothers’ hand. “Gods man, good to see you. You look good.”

  “Likewise, little brother, but you’re still a terrible liar.”

  The Wolverine snorted. “You look a damned sight better’n dead. I’d never thought to hear a son of Kotin whine like a babe every damned day.”

  “You spend a week tied to a bed and see what you think, old man.” Pikarn raised an eyebrow for a think. “Without no women other than your healer.”

  “Still, my old bones mightn’t complain so much as yer mouth.”

  Rikis grinned at Ivin. “Sometimes I wonder if father isn’t telling him to make my life miserable.”

  Ivin chortled. “Our old man had a gift he might carry with him to the heavens.” The grin on his brothers’ face spread and bespoke of secrets. “What?”

  Rikis exhaled and his smile faded. “You remember that day you left for Kaludor? The fight you two had at the table…”

  “Aye, like it was yesterday.”

  “I thought about it long and hard: Which of you brought up the bones first?”

  “I did.” But the moment he said the words, he heard Kotin’s voice: A man might as well yap with an oracle, if you want to take blind shots at interpreting blather. “No, he mentioned it, but—”

  “He planted the seed. And when you mentioned breaking bones with Meris? He attacked, forcing you to defend… Kotin wanted you in Skywatch, and he wanted in Skywatch.”

  “He played me? You’re sure?” It wasn’t beyond reason, but most times he would’ve claimed his father not so clever.

  “Aye. I enquired that next breakfast, but of course all I got was his shit-eating grin.”

  A grin Ivin understood since his earliest childhood memories. “That bastard.”

  “Yeah, I loved that old bastard.”

  “We all did.” Ivin wrinkled his nose to fight a tear, his hand snaking into a pocket to rub Tokodin’s night die. “But I doubt you wheeled down here to tell me this.”

  Rikis said, “They were leaving when we caught word of the Entiyu Emoño.”

  Eredin said, “Aye, they’re running me and your brother out of camp, I think it’s to torture me, spending time with this old codger.” He nodded to Pikarn.

  “Prolly save yer worthless ass. We’re going to head up the coast, see what’s what. That and our welcome may be runnin’ thin.”

  Ivin’s gut clenched. “Thin? What do you mean?

  Roplin replied, “We got a message from the Hidreng this morning, offering, demanding, to meet halfway between here and Sin Medor. If the peace is falling apart we want these men heading for the Blooded Plain and taking as many people as they can with them. I’ll attend this meet while you keep the calm here.”

  Ivin nodded but Lelishen stepped close. “No. Offer to meet outside Sin Medor, it will help convince them you respect their authority. But, send Ivin.”

  “Me?” Ivin spoke little Tekit, and the last negotiation he contemplated turned into a war.

  “They’re testing you. You want to show respect, but not too much. Kings wouldn’t travel for this meeting unless with another king, and this way, we’re more apt to meet face to face with the Overseer rather than an underling. Meeting halfway would be half of a meeting. I’ll ride with you and Solineus; we’ll make his claim to represent Clan Emudar, unless closer Clanblood has arrived.”

  Roplin grunted, casting the woman a peevish glare. “I’m no king. Rikis heads the clan.”

  “It doesn’t matter what title you bear, fool child.”

  “Fool child, is it?” Roplin stared at the woman, but softened. “I don’t like it, but I’d be a true fool not to accept your advice.” And Ivin suspected that deep down Roplin was more than happy to lay the burden on his little brother. “I’ll make sure to get the message out. How long to reach Sin Medor?”

  Lelishen said, “Set the meet for a week from tomorrow, gives us time to settle in, and for them to think.”

  Solineus interrupted. “If I might… have you happened to see a tinker with a couple donkeys named Ears?”

  Roplin shrugged but Rinold flashed a crooked smile. “Ilpen? Aye. That one’s been right handy, he’s set up amongst a group of smiths over yonder rise.”

  Solineus looked to Ivin. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the girls and say hello to the man. Let him know about Eliles.”

  Both Ivin and Roplin nodded, and the trio plus one horned beast made their way through the tents. Ivin glanced to his brothers
and Eredin. “Don’t let me keep you, we’ll have time to catch up down the road.”

  Rikis said, “Aye. We should leave with the sun high.” Ivin clasped forearms with each of them, the hug reserved for Rikis, then watched as the party wound its way north up the coast.

  Ivin turned to Roplin. “What else have I missed?”

  Roplin led his horse. “Walk and talk. Inster’s people have been more generous than expected, and our fisherfolk do well in these waters, but there’ve been incidents. A couple brawls and shouting matches, the only dead thus far are our own and by our own hands. If it were spring, we might build a decent village to survive the winter, maybe plant crops even, but with winter on the way? The bergs will get dangerous for fishing too.”

  “Ice might not be so much a danger this year.” Ivin chuckled at the cockeyed glance he got. “Sorry, go on.”

  “Outside of camp, I’ve only got rumors to judge by, mostly. It’s said some folks didn’t make it as far as Hidreng, and the Brotna slaughtered them, fed them to the sea. What I’ve heard, many Emudar boats landed in those parts.”

  Lelishen asked, “Any word of the Emudar family? The Mikjehemluts?”

  “Assassinations. I’ve heard of them from every Fost. But who lived, who died, no way to tell the truth thus far. Hells, I’ve heard we’re dead.” He laughed. “We didn’t get so lucky.”

  Roplin led them to the crown of a hill and handed his reins to a young boy, and stepped through the flap of a proper tent brought over from the Watch, with fitted elk hide and clean hewn poles. The room held chairs and tables from the Watch, but they’d left behind those in the hall where Kotin died.

  Ivin sat, his ass and back enjoying a proper chair with cushions. The three stared across the table at each other until Roplin spoke again, his eyes settling on Lelishen.

  “So, now uh, when and how should we send writ to the Edan?”

  She looked at him with soft brown eyes, but they faded until blue sparkling with silver shown through, and her round human face gave way to high cheekbones and angular jaw. Ivin knew she wasn’t human, but the transformation was startling. The woman held an inhuman elegance. “I’m certain they know the rudiments of the situation by now, if the Shadows spread far enough north, Silone will have landed on the shores of the Eleris.”

  Roplin rubbed his eyes. “That didn’t answer my question.”

  “There may not be a right answer. I recommend you wait until I come back from the meet with the Hidreng. I’ll have Captain Intœño take me to the Eleris soon as I get back. If I bear the message, I know it will get to the proper eyes.”

  The flap of the tent flipped open, a mustached warrior peeking inside at them before he stepped aside for a silver-haired woman. Ivin smiled. He hadn’t seen her since his mother’s passing, but despite the gray hair and wrinkles, her blue eyes, straight shoulders, and dignified air gave her away as Tedeu, Lady of Clan Ravinrin. Soon after Peneluple’s death, Tedeu’s husband died, leaving the Clan in her hands. Ivin knew Kotin communicated with her, but the woman was too busy to visit the Watch.

  “Ivin, I’ll be… The spitting image of your mother.”

  “It’s great to see you again, Lady Tedeu.” He bowed, but she strode to him, pinched his cheeks, and gave him a hug.

  “I’m so sorry for your losses.”

  “Your family? I’d heard all the Clans—”

  “They missed me, my boy, missed me. My sons and the Lord Findus are well also.” Findus was her second husband, as Ivin recalled. Lanklin had been her first, a warrior of high repute, who died in a battle at sea with Brotna raiders. Her boys he didn’t remember meeting. “Lanklin’s brothers, their sons and wives… dead or at least missing far as we know. Luck and a keen eye saved us.”

  “I don’t care how, it’s good to see a friendly face.”

  “I won’t be friendly long, I stopped by for words with your brother.” The woman’s eyes hardened. “Why’d I have to wait on rumor to hear about the Hidreng meeting? And who the Hells is this strange woman?”

  Roplin squirmed in his seat. “I was seeing to the Luxun ship—“

  Ivin smirked and stepped in, although he doubted there was any way the Lady didn’t recognize a Trelelunin. “This is Lelishen of Eleris.”

  Tedeu cast the woodkin a perfunctory smile for a split flicker before pinning her glare back to Roplin. “I expect a Ravinrin to ride with you, my boy.”

  Roplin nodded. “Our Clans have been great friends, your kin would’ve been invited, of course, but seems I’ll be sitting here with you. Lelishen has offered to guide Ivin and Solineus to Sin Medor.”

  She cocked her head. “Solineus. A Mikjehemlut, if I’m right? That is good, I’d worried for the Emudar. One of my boys, Tudwan I think, will ride with you.”

  Ivin smiled. “As you wish.”

  Tedeu sauntered to the table, eyeballing the black shield with its arrowheads on Ivin’s back, and sat. “You’ve become some sort of porcupine, my boy. So, which clans will ride with us?”

  Roplin planted his elbows on the table and unfurled a scroll littered with names, many crossed off, some circled. “There isn’t a Broldun here I’d trust with a song, and from what I’ve heard”—he pointed to names—“Borun Mulharth is alive, wounded, but he’s encamped well east and north of here. So are most ranking members of the more northern Clans. Gorum Bulubar is dead, survived by his wife, Heshiu.”

  “A decent woman and wise,” said Tedeu.

  “She heads the Bulubar Clan now. Lansdir Tuvrikt and her entire family are dead except a young daughter, but we’ve word of a couple cousins, Rins and Henrikt.”

  Ivin looked over his brother’s shoulder, scanning the parchment. “There’s a Broldun here?”

  “Aye, Polus, but we’ve word of closer Clanblood further out.”

  Tedeu snorted. “Leave that spitting-fish out of this. Ravinrin, Choerkin, Emudar, we’re the closest of heart and mind. We don’t need some bickering Broldun going mouthy on our hosts.”

  Ivin said, “We should send him an invite.”

  Roplin’s glare didn’t hide his disgust. “You said yourself the Broldun was with Ulrikt.”

  Ivin sat, propped his feet on the table. “A Broldun. As many of them as died, they weren’t all behind Ulrikt and the Shadows of Man.”

  Tedeu swatted Ivin’s feet from the table. “Your mother would be ashamed.”

  “Of inviting a Broldun or my feet?”

  “Both. This one lived, why? He’s here instead of further east with his kin, why?”

  Ivin gauged the woman’s eyes before speaking. “I don’t know this Polus Broldun from a weed, but it’s no time to be poking any clan in the eye when Hidreng armies could sit on the horizon any day. Slight them now, we might pay later.”

  Roplin said, “It’s you risking your neck on the bastard. You sure? Right then, best not put it off before he comes storming in like our lady here. Joslin! Where did that boy get to?”

  The boy’s head slipped through the tent’s flap. “Yes, sir?”

  “Find Puxele, have her track down… invite Polus Broldun to our tent in regards to a meet with the Hidreng.”

  The boy nodded and darted away.

  Roplin gazed at Ivin over propped elbows and tented fingers. “How about you tell us what happened with Eliles while we wait?”

  Ivin bowed his head and related the tale.

  Solineus found Ilpen sweating beside a fire, hammering horseshoes, and he already looked like he’d taken in his belt a few notches. He told the tinker of Eliles’s sacrifice while the girls and Tengkur acquainted themselves with Ears and Ears, and Ilpen took a seat on a stool, his face contorted.

  “She were alive the last you knew? In the fire?”

  “Nothing outside of a god will harm her now. Maybe not then.”

  “I’d heard she weren’t dead, I asked the Choerkin boy the other day. Don’t know what to think, figured on seeing her again.”

  Kinesee snuck beside the man with a big smile, bouncing o
n her toes, itching to talk. It took several moments for Ilpen to notice her. “Aye, young lady? I’ve seen that look afore, what you want?”

  “Do you work with more than iron?”

  “Most times I work copper, why ya ask?”

  Kinesee pulled her pearl from her pocket. “I need somethin’ real good to hold this, strong, necklace maybe? No way I can lose it.”

  “A setting? Now just how’s a young lass gonna come up with the songs to pay for my valuable time, eh?”

  Solineus chuckled. “I wouldn’t dicker with her, or the price will be your sanity.”

  “Hmm, well.” Ilpen eyeballed her. “Perhaps she could help with these infernal donkeys?”

  “I can!”

  “A bargain struck.” Ilpen shook the girl’s hand while she bounced.

  “I want a sword,” said Alu.

  “Now that’s plum beyond my expertise, and hard to come by.”

  Solineus said, “You can have your great-grandfather’s sword when I deem you ready.”

  The girl beamed as Ilpen asked, “She any good?”

  “She’s on par with the Elder here, but she’s improving.”

  “Hey! I could whoop on that donkey.”

  Ilpen grinned. “Don’t you go underestimating four-leggers.”

  Alu rolled her eyes and ran her hand between the Elder’s ears as Solineus changed subjects. “Your family, they’re well?”

  “Oh hells, yes!” The man’s jowls jiggled with fervent nods. “Thanks to Puxele. She got us down to Jimlun, they’d heard of nothing happening up north yet, so we managed to get the entire village on boats. It was right slow at first, but a bunch of us caught on with an Emudar cog a day out.”

  “Clan-blood?”

  “Emudar? Nah, not I know of anyway, they hadn’t heard of demons either when came ‘cross them.”

  Solineus didn’t know how to feel about the lack of word on his family since he couldn’t remember a single one. “Well, girls, we’d best be heading back. We’ll catch up with the donkeys a bit later, get that pearl set. You know where the Choerkin tent sits?”

  Ilpen pointed. “Yonder about ten wicks, just follow the ridgeline, that’ll walk you a crooked line straight to it.”