Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  Intœño laughed. “I’m alive!”

  The two ships sailing straight for them were massive, triple masted with a dozen sails, and ballista mounted on the prow. “I hope you stay that way.”

  “I’ll survive by being a sailor, not a warrior.” The captain shouted, “Kimini troilo!” Glimdrem thought it meant something like, “Bring me the wind.”

  Luxuns scaled ropes, clinging in a series from top to bottom. The Entiyu Emoño’s sails snapped with a rush of wind while the sails of the Tek ships fell limp. Wind thieves. It was an old nickname given the Luxuns in ancient texts, and now he understood how they earned the title.

  But would it would be enough?

  The mast of the Entiyu Emoño creaked and the entire ship groaned under the strain of the gale, but it held together with a speed Glimdrem hadn’t imagined. Archers lined the first ship’s rails and loosed their arrows, but the winds knocked them aside, sending them into the strait with harmless splashes.

  Confidence grew, and though he stood stone still, in his mind he cheered, dancing as a child who’d won a prize. Then the ballista’s harpoon struck, piercing the deck, its rope thick and taut in a flicker. A Tek sailor looped rope over the line and slid down its length toward them, and more were following. Glimdrem glanced to the deck; the Luxuns were busy with their wind trick.

  “Cut the rope!”

  Glimdrem stared at the Captain, uncertain who he meant the command for. This time their eyes locked. “Cut that rope!”

  He drew his sword and leaped from the sterncastle, sprinting to the barbed spear stuck in the Entiyu Emoño. His sword slashed and fibers split, but the rope was thick as his forearm. He followed the rope with his eye, watching Tek slide closer even as he sliced over and over into the rope.

  The first Tek was so close Glimdrem could see his eyes were a dark brown and he bore a scar on his left cheek. The sailor screamed his battle cry before the rope snapped. The man hit the deck of the ship with three others, but several more fell to swim.

  He lurched for the downed man sitting stunned and groggy on the deck and slipped the sword into his chest. Glimdrem stared into those brown eyes and the man stared back; the axe’s blow missed his hand by a finger, and he plunged the sword into the man three more times, the last straight to his face.

  Two men rushed him but the one in front dropped with a quarrel through his thigh, and the Dara sailor finished him with an axe to the pate. Glimdrem unleashed a guttural cry and charged the remaining Teks alongside the islander. One man crawled with a twisted leg before the axe took the back of his neck, and the other Glimdrem slashed across the arm before sticking the sharp through his heart.

  Combat was a rush as he’d never felt before, and he clasped arms with the Dara, both men laughing to be alive.

  Arrows gave chase, but the wind defeated their arcs, and the Entiyu Emoño raced through the blockade with open waters ahead. Glimdrem imagined there wasn’t a ship in the world which could catch them. But the world didn’t matter, he knew well that no Tek ship would keep them from the Eleris.

  Sailors cheered, and the Dara said, “Uumboyo of Olfindara.”

  “Glimdrem of Eleris Edan.”

  The man pulled him close and pounded his shoulder before throwing his head back to howl. And Glimdrem joined him. Primal and alien, the air ripping from his lungs transformed his tension into elation, so he howled a second time, shaking his sword in the air.

  He liked this Dara; maybe it was time to make a human friend.

  Solineus didn’t wait for the rowboat to hit the shore; he leaped into the surf and ran until colliding with the crowd on the beach. He wormed his way through the milling bodies without a concern for losing Inslok and climbed a bluff before he could stand without brushing shoulders. He closed his eyes and focused, but he couldn’t feel her. Where is she?

  His left index finger twitched, an itch turning to a tingle in the tip, and his arm raised to point. Thank you.

  His feet bolted, but he rammed straight into someone, driving them to the ground. He stopped. “Ivin?”

  “Solineus? What the hells—”

  “No time!” He sprinted without offering the man a hand, dodging people as he could, grazing their shoulders, but never stopping. He had a sense for the girl now, she was close, so close. His eyes lit on a covered wagon unhitched from its team sitting alone in the dark with five hooded men guarding its steps.

  He circled, coming in high, and the Twins roared from the depths of his consciousness. The first man’s head flew never knowing he was about to die, his body rocking the wagon as it hit, and the second’s spine split at the waist, his final view a head flipping through the air. Blood streaked the wagon’s canopy as the Twin gashed the third across the chest. Solineus stopped as this man collapsed, facing two more with their smallswords drawn. Their faces were Silone, but the weapons were a Tek design. A poor Tek design when facing Latcu.

  He strode forward with one Twin whirling a figure eight, the other straight in the air and no doubt hard to see in the dark. They came for him, and he deflected the first’s attack with the eight, and dipped the left Twin; a quick thrust and the man’s own momentum skewered him through the nose until cracking out the back his skull like a chick’s beak hatching. The right slashed the air, catching the other man’s lunge; the Twin sheered the smallsword’s thin blade, and Solineus’ circling swipe cut a diagonal stripe from the man’s right hip to his shoulder.

  Solineus stopped for two breaths. Strode for the wagon’s steps, and it rocked beneath his feet before he slashed the canopy open.

  46

  An Inquisitive Soul

  Flattery is a weapon more fearsome than the sword in the hands of a master, but it is a weapon defeated by a soul with no ego to feed.

  –Codex of Sol

  Kinesee sat on a hard stool, her hands and feet bound, and blind in pitch black with canvass strapped over her head. She had no sense of time after being walked into the back of the wagon, but guessed she’d been here a candle or longer. Plenty of time for her eyes to dry, and her breaths to calm.

  Far as she could tell she was alone beneath the wagon’s canopy, but voices were a constant from outside. Feet tromped, and the wagon rocked as someone climbed inside from behind her. They passed by her side, and she felt a tug untying her hood.

  A pretty face greeted her, a slender woman with long black hair, and she wore the robes of a high priestess. “You! It was you who killed those people.” She wasn’t certain, but it was a fish-kissing coincidence if this wasn’t the woman who murdered the Hidreng and others the night she snuck out.

  She smiled. Not beautiful, not even as pretty as she first thought. “This is a popular opinion.”

  Two months ago Kinesee would’ve been a child cowed by a ranking priest, incapable of defiance. “You deny it?”

  “I don’t think it matters if I did or didn’t.”

  The woman managed an answer that flummoxed her. “What do you mean by that?”

  “That it doesn’t matter.”

  The dead-fish stare she gave reawakened her anger. “So, yer gonna kill me because I saw you?”

  “Even if it was me you saw: No.” She leaned in, brushed hair from Kinesee’s face. “I wanted to get a good look at you.”

  Kinesee ducked her head and shook her hair so it fell in front of her face.

  The priestess laughed. “A petulant child, though barely a child any longer. We all grow older faster in trying times.” She brushed her hair back again. “If others had found you instead of me, you would be dead.”

  “You forget there’s a Tek fleet in the harbor, we’ll all be dead soon.”

  The woman leaned back. “Perhaps. Well, you’ll be dead. Me and my people? We will live.”

  Kinesee snorted. “Why’d you wanna see me?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, someone tried to kill you—”

  “Sure, you!”

  “If I wanted you dead you would be, we can at least agree on that, can’t
we? No, but I’ve been trying to figure out who wants you dead and why. A child, born to unmarried clanblood, taken under the Ravinrin wing… pretty but unspecial in any obvious way.”

  “The Emudar have many enemies in the northern clans.” She’d heard this broad explanation a hundred times or more by folks wiser than her in clan politics.

  “I’ve considered that! Preat Yungar was my first thought. Your father’s father took his father’s head in a dual some twenty years ago, some spat over a woman. But I tracked down his kin and turns out Preat was last seen eating people.” The priestess shrugged. “It isn’t the Yungars. So, who has a such a grudge to wipe out all Emudar clanblood? Not just Mikjehemlut?”

  “Tirus.” A name she’d heard bandied about by the Lady Ravinrin; the Tirus family were full of oath-breaking brutes if Tedeu could be believed.

  “A wager few would give you odds on, so many believe it true.”

  Kinesee shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  The priestess’ head cocked with a smirk. “It doesn’t?”

  “No. When my father arrives, and he will, soon, you’ll all be dead.”

  She giggled, almost girlish. “Your father sailed for Kaludor for gods know what reason… to show some woodkin the horrors? To close the Celestial Gate?”

  “He’s back. He’ll find me soon.” She relaxed her shoulders, breathed easy.

  There was no way this woman believed her, but her smile slipped. “And just how would he know where to find you?”

  Kinesee shrugged, stared straight into her eye. “A father knows things… He can feel me, just like I feel him. He’s close.” She didn’t know until she said, but she did feel him. Or she imagined it. She couldn’t be sure, but the priestess wasn’t so sure either. “You should leave.” And she smiled.

  “Horseshit.” The woman’s sweet tones grew dark, and her brows scrunched. She wasn’t pretty, she was downright ugly. “Why do the Nesfereum want you dead?”

  Kinesee drew back from the evil in the woman’s visage. “The who? The what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  A commotion outside, men grunted and a ring reminiscent of steel. Something rocked the wagon on its wheels, testing the wedges which kept it from rolling.

  “The Nesfereum—”

  A scream cut off her words, and something splashed the canopy a second time. Kinesee smiled. “I warned you.”

  The priestess reached for her and Kinesee flung herself backwards as the wagon rocked; the woman’s nails scratched at her throat, but couldn’t find a grip. Canvass split above her, and as her back hit the floorboards, Solineus surged over her.

  Fire flew with the woman’s prayers, heating Kinesee’s face, but she wasn’t the target. One of Solineus’ twin blades hewed the Fire while his other arm covered his face, and he drove straight into her. The priestess backed and stumbled, and he shoved her straight out the end of the wagon with a roaring heave. The Fire died, and his blade clipped the woman in the ribs as she fell outside.

  He stared after the woman a flicker, then turned to her. “Are you hurt?”

  Kinesee stared up at him. She’d never seen him in a beard, let alone one singed and smoking. She giggled. “You look funny.”

  “That answers my question.” He turned, opening the flap the woman fell through, then looked back to her. He grabbed her collar and pulled her stool upright before cutting the ropes.

  Soon as her arms were free, she threw them around her hero. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, sweet girl.” He sheathed a twin and lifted her easier than her father ever had, carrying her from the wagon. “What the hells happened?”

  “I… We were at the beach, we saw the fires and we headed for the Ravinrin tents. I got knocked to the ground, then…” Part of her didn’t want to say it for fear of what Solineus might do to the boy, but another part of her didn’t care. “Leto Ravinrin. I was with him. He handed me over to those people. To that priestess.”

  Solineus set her on her feet and kneeled to look in her eye. “He did what?”

  Solineus stormed through two guards and straight into the Ravinrin’s main tent. “Where is that little shit eater?” In four strides he had Leto Ravinrin by the throat, lifting to slam him against the central tent pole. “I reckon you better explain yourself and fast.”

  The boy struggled for breath, his feet dangling.

  “Remember where you are, Mikjehemlut!” The Lady Tedeu’s voice rang high, and swords sang from their sheaths.

  Kinesee tromped forward and screamed. “He gave me to the high priestess!” She stepped over and punched him in the gut.

  Solineus couldn’t have been more proud if he was her blood-father. “Like I said, you’ve explaining to do or I break your neck here and now.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “My boy would never do such a thing.”

  “My girl says otherwise.” He eased his grip, but kept Leto’s feet dangling.

  “We got separated in the crowd… I found Semerun, but never saw Kinesee ‘til now.”

  Semerun sheathed his sword and held his hands palm out as he stepped forward. “The boy speaks the truth. I found him moments after losing the both of them. But we couldn’t find her.”

  Solineus didn’t trust the boy, but the warrior’s eyes didn’t lie. He lowered Leto to the ground. “I don’t know how I can believe you both, but I do.”

  Tedeu said, “Come, my boy.” Leto scurried to her side. “We have bigger worries than your daughter with platformed Ships in harbor.”

  It was hard to figure what the godsdamned hells was going on, but the woman shot straight as ever. “Aye. But I’ll be back. Kinesee.”

  Solineus stepped from the tent with the girl by his side.

  “He did it!”

  “We’ll sort that out, after… Where’s the Choerkin tent?” She pointed northeast, and he adjusted his route. “What’d that damned priestess say to you?”

  “She wanted to know why the Nesfereum wants me dead.”

  “Who wants you dead? What the hells is that?”

  “That’s what I said!” She stomped beside him. “When we arrived at New Fost, a pack of men tried to kill me. Guess you haven’t heard that.”

  “No, I hadn’t.” A daughter of a fisherman thrown into an intrigue he couldn’t even remember… if it had anything to do with him and the Emudar. “How much do you know?”

  “Maro beat the man silly… Someone hired them, but we dunno who.”

  “I reckon the assassin is dead now?”

  “Yup! Tedeu doesn’t have a stomach for torture, but she’s just fine with execution.”

  Solineus doubted he would’ve gotten more from the bastard anyhow.

  A banner stitched with the Choerkin bear caught his eye, and in a wick he strolled through an open the unguarded flap. Clanblood had stuffed the Ravinrin tent from flap to back, but in the Choerkin tent a lone figure stalked the great table with weak strides, struggling to cinch his sword belt.

  “Rikis, it’s good to see you up and well.”

  The Choerkin turned, his face showing good color and his eyes bright. “Mikjehemlut? You the one who brought the Tek fleet?”

  “Have a seat Kinesee.” The girl trotted to the table without a word. Almost as shocking as finding Sedut holding her prisoner. “No, the Entiyu Emoño chased the bastards, but we didn’t beat the attack.”

  “It is good you’ve returned. You can join me to drive these bastards from New Fost and back to their boats.” His fingers fumbled the buckle three times before he got it right.

  “There won’t be a fight to win, on land, way I reckon it.”

  “The bastards are burning our ships and dropping heads in the strait!”

  “The Parapet Strait isn’t the Blooded Plain, there isn’t a treaty, nothing to protect our ships. There’s now an Edan on the beach.”

  “This is good news, if they fear the Edan as folks say.” Rikis leaned against the table. “They coulda burned our ships anytime. Why
now?”

  “That’s what we need to learn. You’ve seen Ivin?”

  “Ivin’s a prisoner of the Bishop in the city of Bdein, if the wind of rumor is true.”

  Solineus chuckled. “That’d be a mighty good trick considering I knocked him to the ground a flicker back.”

  Rikis stared, maybe thinking Solineus was addled in the head. After several flickers he shrugged. “Then you know more than I do.”

  Solineus turned to Kinesee, who sat dutiful and silent. Maybe time around Tedeu was growing her up, or maybe it was people wanting her dead that did the trick. “First things first, keeping you safe.”

  The Soaring Gull struck grating stones to slow her before she reached a lurching stop, and sailors leaped into the waters below to reach shore. Ivin felt alone with his stricken priestess within flickers as folks fled the ship. Captain Swolis’ head darted above the edge of the forecastle.

  “Is she alive?”

  “Aye, she is.” Ivin lifted and slung Meliu over his shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t hate him later for this undignified rescue. He climbed to the deck as the captain hooked a rope ladder to the side and loosed his grip.

  “I’ll head down first and old it steady best I can.”

  A flight of arrows rushed over their head from the beach, on their way to the Tek vessel behind them, as Swolis hit the beach.

  The ladder twisted and swung like a branch on a windy day as he hauled her extra weight, and he damned near fell when his foot slipped a rung, but he reached the rocky surf without dropping Meliu.

  “What the hells is wrong with the gal?”

  “I don’t know.” He trudged to shore with Swolis close behind. “You and your men... Solineus Mikjehemlut is a friend, you Emudar are welcome at the Choerkin tents any time.”

  “Clanblood? I hear that one’s a fire-brand.”

  “He is at that.”

  The captain swatted his shoulder. “I’ll be takin’ you up on the offer, friend. I owe you. But, I best find my crew and keep ‘em in line for now. Good luck to ya.”