Inslok’s head turned. “Yes. It will bring peace.”
“It brought fire! They burned half the damned ground between here and Winter Home. It’s war they wanted, the Edan should give it.”
“I am aware of the fire.”
“Then call an army of woodkin and end the Teks tomorrow.”
“The Hundred Nations did not break the treaty—”
“They tried to burn my people to cinders! You guaranteed safety, they broke that guarantee.”
“They burned your food supply more than your people as I hear.”
How the hells does he know these things? How the hell did he kill a woman in Bdein and deliver her head? “They attacked, indirect it may’ve been, but a godsdamned attack no matter how you color it.”
“The agreement as written allows the Blooded Plain burned every season. This was important to the Hidreng, as they believed it would help them see us coming. For a hundred and seventeen years the Blooded Plain burned every spring and fall, until they no longer chose to do so. What they have done is honor the treaty by starting the fire.”
The Wolverine grumbled and Solineus feared the old man’s words, but he ripped jerky and chewed rather than unleash venom.
Rikis stammered. “And, and my people, we were just in the way?”
“No, but by the letter of the Treaty of the Blooded Plain they were within the bounds of the agreement to set the fire.” Inslok cocked his head, lips twisting in a fashion Solineus had never seen on an Edan, but he hesitated to make a human interpretation. “I stepped on the treaty’s line when I delivered those heads; the Hidreng stepped on the line when they set the Blooded Plain afire. Perhaps the Tek crossed a line, they have been crossed ever since your people landed on the shores of Northern Vandunez, but if we do not take a step back from these lines… It is not a war your people would survive standing in the middle.”
Solineus clutched his face and breathed deep. “They’re starving us, Inslok.”
“I am aware.”
“We need help.”
“I am aware. What do you need?”
“We need supplies, animals, anything you can give.”
“And if we give what we can, what will you do?”
Rikis said, “We’ll live to fight another day.”
Pikarn added, “Every day alive puts us closer to sailing to Kaludor.”
“Then you will die having wasted the supplies we provide. You must move south.”
Rikis laughed. “So another Tek can burn us out? How far can we go?”
“Until they chase you no more. It isn’t a good answer, but it’s the only answer which isn’t death. My intent is not cruelty, but honesty.”
Lelishen said, “You mean the Dragonspan Mountains and the Helelindin?”
Inslok shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The southern Nations might tolerate their presence before moving so far.”
The Wolverine spat. “No Tek has ever tolerated the Silone for long.”
Rikis asked, “Who are these Helelindin?”
Lelishen said, “One of the woodkin. He is right, you’d be safe once past the Gediswon River. The Kingdomers in the Dragonspans wouldn’t pay you two minds if you leave them alone, and the Helelindin are a warrior people. Establish them as friends and the Tek Malobund would tuck tail.”
“How long to get there?”
“Months. A thousand horizons as a guess.”
Pikarn tore another piece of meat with his teeth. “Months? A thousand horizons? We’d never see Kaludor again.”
Solineus gauged the faces around him. “What help could you give us? We’d need arms, animals, axes and rope…”
“We can only give so much.”
“Horseshit! You want us gone, there’s a price to getting us gone.”
“We wish you gone for your survival—”
“No. Maybe, but you don’t want your Treaty strained. You don’t want war any more than the Hidreng. Maybe you bastards aren’t so powerful as you have everyone convinced—”
“Enough. My people have done nothing but show you kindness—”
Pikarn said, “You slaughtered Tuvrikt sailors when they landed.”
“A mistake. Basic supplies we have.”
Solineus said, “Two thousand bows and two hundred arrows per bow. A hundred Trelelunin archers to train our people.”
Inslok’s stare was cold, and he blinked only once. “Done.”
Rikis shook his head. “Going south isn’t enough.”
Solineus glanced back and forth; this wasn’t good. “What the hells are you talking about?”
“Kaludor. There are seven hundred men here at New Fost. Allow their women and children to join them, build a town. Supply us until we get on our feet, help us build ships, and when the time comes, we’ll help you close the Celestial Gate in Istinjoln, and we retake Kaludor.”
The Wolverine grunted with a smile. “Aye. I’ll be damned if I run any further.”
Inslok turned north toward Istinjoln as if he could see the beam of light. “The Gate is a concern. You may sustain New Fost so we may assist each other in its closing.”
Solineus grinned and pushed his luck. “Horses and oxen, we’ll need plenty of wood for wagons. Rope to stretch horizons.”
“We will do everything we can, no horses.” He held up his hand. “Stop there, or the Volvrolan may pull me from my duties and command me to the Father Wood.”
I’ll be damned. “Was that a sense of humor showing through?”
“No. I will speak with the Volvrolan of our agreement, but there is one thing. New Fost will cease to exist as soon as the Gate is closed, or if we fail, your people will remain at New Fost no more than one thousand years. Agreed?”
Rikis stammered, “Agreed.”
Inslok hopped down the rocks and glided east.
The Wolverine scratched his head. “Shittin’ me? A thousand years?”
Solineus shrugged. “They have a different view of time than we do.” He turned to Lelishen. “Too easy?”
“There will be nothing easy about your journey south. Those who stay in the north may be the only ones who survive.”
Solineus snorted and clasped arms with Rikis. “Bold move with New Fost.”
Rikis’ gaze shifted north. “I had to. I knew it the flicker we set foot here again; this is my home until we retake Kaludor.”
Solineus’s face sunk. “You head the Choerkins.”
But the man laughed. “No, I think we saw who leads the Choerkin, even if Ivin doesn’t realize it yet. My place is here, and there.” He pointed across the Parapet Strait. “We’ll need shipwrights as well as warriors.”
Pikarn said, “I’ll remain at your side. Together we’ll go home.”
Choerkin were level headed but stubborn with a decision made. It might be the right one. “It’ll take years.”
Rikis guffawed. “I’ve got a thousand.”
53
A Ladder of Rivers
Your body, bent and broken,
snapped twigs and twisted grass,
crackle, hiss, pop; green tinder smoking.
Eyes gone dry as the clouds,
no matter, the latter. Swam the ladder,
walked the winds, breathed the waves.
Fire returns you to soil, its smoke, your soul.
–Tomes of the Touched
The hunt for priests met success with a dozen names, but not a one Meliu recognized. Most who came forward hailed from Bulubar or Tuvrikt, regions where common folk murdered fewer adherents after the Eve of Snows. But Sedut and her people were somewhere, and odds on, that somewhere was here.
Winter Home swelled from a town to a city in a matter of two weeks, maybe thirty or forty thousand souls. Bigger than New Fost, but still a speck compared to Bdein. Thousands more already traveled south, but it made sense Sedut would hide in the biggest haystack she could find. With as many folks as Meliu talked to, the odds of Sedut not knowing Meliu sought her was hair slim, even if she never mentioned her
by name.
Tracking the high priestess down was like catching a hare in a field of holes, what she needed was the proper carrot. She didn’t have or know a damned thing Sedut wanted. But there was another hare bound to know in which hole the other hid.
She took her pack off, pulled out the Codex of Sol, and clutched it to her chest while whistling The Ballad of Ner Dubrol, a tune celebrating the ales of Istinjoln.
Four bars into the song: “I had from your own lips that you never wished to see me again.”
The speed with which he arrived startled her, and her whistle went shrill before she turned to look. The boy with beautiful blue eyes strode by her side, hands twined behind his back.
“You follow me everywhere I go?”
He giggled and spoke in the boy’s voice. “You stand out in any crowd, but asking after priests? This makes everyone notice.”
As in Inster, people walked around them, never seeming to notice them. “Thanks to you, the Tek decided they’ll kill us all.”
“Me? You blame me for the will of a heathen people and their incestuous gods?”
“You know damned well I speak of the Rot.”
“You blame me for the Rot?” If she didn’t know he was a consummate liar, she might’ve believed the plaintive tone of voice.
“You said you’d kill a thousand thousand… A disease in a vial!”
He laughed, his face turning red. “Disease in a vial, who ever heard of such a thing? You must think me a man… a boy of miracles.”
His smirk grated on her nerves. “You’re a lying son of a bitch.”
His demeanor shifted from laughing to stern in an instant. “Does it matter? Rats carried the Rot to Kaludor from the deep south of the world, and who knows whence it came before that. Now tell me, my girl, why do you seek your holy brethren?”
“The Church and Clans must work together.” It pained her to say this in front of Ulrikt or whoever this child was. There was only one thing she wanted less than Ulrikt’s help, and that was the extermination of the Silone people. “The Tek will kill us all, by blade or famine, unless we come together.”
“Mm! The holy do not hide because they want to, they hide because they fear the people.”
“They hide because you set a plague of demons upon the people and they blame the holy.”
The boy shrugged. “Cause, effect, I understand. It is quite the spiral. What matter where it started? What matters is the state of now.”
“Just tell me where Sedut is, and don’t insult me by pretending not to know, then we can go back to my never wanting to see your damned face again.”
“So to speak?”
Meliu grimaced “Done with your games.”
“We both know that is a lie, do we not?”
She planted her feet and turned, shocked to see Ulrikt instead of the boy. Striking blue eyes in a handsome and aging face. “Just tell me where she is.”
“Not in Winter Home, my dear.”
This shocked her more than the child’s sudden arrival or Ulrikt’s face. “What? New Fost is damned near empty. She was there.”
“She was.”
Meliu cocked her head and rolled her shoulders, fuming. “Games. Over.”
“Only when I say they are. Tell me, what have you found in the Codex?”
“Where is Tomarok?”
He clapped his hands and smiled. “I see you are far from done playing the game yourself. Good! If I knew, I would not tell you.” Her tongue burned with curses, but he raised a hand. “I know its location on ancient maps, but as you know?”
“The ancient maps are inaccurate.”
“Not inaccurate, just accurate to the world as it once was rather than is.”
“Under an ocean, destroyed…”
“Or sitting beneath a thousand noses. We do not know, but I’ve faith you will find it. Now, answer my question.”
She sighed, the Codex defied her attempts. “I haven’t had time to decipher the first code passage.”
He frowned as his head bobbed. “That is disappointing, but understandable, you have been busy. I pray you find more time for your studies.”
“If I don’t survive, I won’t never get the thing read. Tell me where Sedut is.”
“Ride north until you reach a stream, follow it east a day and a half, and you will find a map showing Tomarok.” He turned and strolled in front of a stream of passersby, and they parted around him like water around a rock without acknowledging his existence.
“And Sedut?”
He stopped and turned in the stream of people. “And Sedut.”
“Does she know you’re alive?”
He turned his back to her and disappeared in the people. What face does he wear now?
It didn’t matter, she had direction, a goal. But the hells if she would go alone. A lone lady on an open plain with gods knew how many Tek crawling through the weeds? Damned easy to get lost in the wilds, too, no matter how easy Ulrikt made it sound.
She stuffed the Codex back into its bag and turned toward the Choerkin tents. She needed an escort, but one which wouldn’t frighten off Sol’s devout. Lelishen. The escort couldn’t be more perfect unless an Edan.
“Forty-five godsdamned rivers.” Ivin stood hunched over the map given them by Limereu. Fingers drummed the table as Solineus studied the lines. Off to the side, Rinold and Puxele stood attentive, but they hadn’t much to say so far.
“Most of those are streams and creeks from what Lelishen tells me.” Solineus tapped the map seven times. “The Ilmen, Kovo, Yundile, Loetozu, Porro-ok, Destil, and Gediswon are the seven worthy of worry. Even then, several of those are glorified streams unless we’ve got heavy rains.”
“We assume heavy godsdamned rains.”
Solineus groaned; the boy had awakened in a snit this morning, he figured from a lack of Meliu in his bed. The priestess had run off with Lelishen the evening prior, and they hadn’t a word of them since. It didn’t help none that Rikis and the Wolverine stayed behind at New Fost. “There can’t be heavy rains at every river, for shit’s sake.”
“And why the hells not?” Ivin stood straight and stared him in the eye.
Solineus laughed. “I reckon because I said so.” He pointed back to the map. “Once we cross the Delhen, we make for the Ilmen and Kovo, they’re both tributaries for the Greater Kovo. Before we even hit the Yundile, the western horizon will be open for the Tek Reshu.”
Ivin said, “We need to reach the Yundile and cross fast as possible, put the river between us and the Reshu, Tarmar, and Vardo as we move south. What’d the woodkin say about the Loetozu?”
“The Loetozu leads smack into the Litra, no river for a moat down there. But the terrain roughens, might be we slip through.”
Ivin pointed to a long river flowing south-southeast. “If we hug the western bank of the Cevrendesu far as we can, which means crossing the Porro-ok once we reach Tek Malstefne territory, continue down the Cevrendesu to the Destil. With luck the Tek Loenfarar won’t know we’re there, or won’t care.”
Solineus muttered, “I reckon it gets risky here. We cross open ground to the Besil River and follow it down to the Gediswon. That’s Tek Malobund, and there ain’t no way we sneak by them. But once beyond the Gediswon we’re on Helelindin ground.”
Rinold cleared his throat. “And these Helelindin will welcome us?”
“They’re woodkin allied with the Edan… and they hate the Malobund.” Ivin stalked the length of the table like a cat in a cage. “Bigger problem is we need a way to cross the bigger rivers.”
“Several have stone bridges, others known fords… There’ll be losses: livestock, supplies… lives. No avoiding certain truths.”
“We need barges.”
Solineus scratched his head. “We’ve got a promise of supplies from the Edan.” Maybe they should’ve bargained for boats instead of longbows and arrows. Boats with wheels. “Trelelunin along the way might assist us. What’d be the easiest, fastest way to cross?”
&n
bsp; “Bridge.”
“Next?”
“I don’t know, ferries? Pulled across by rope?”
Solineus pointed to the map. “By the time we reach the Ilmen, we could have several ferries built and loaded on wheeled flats. We stretch several ropes across the way, and ferry folks across a load at a time.”
Ivin stopped pacing and collapsed into a chair with a laugh. “First, we’d need horizons of heavy rope. And we’d be floating ducks if a Tek army arrives during a crossing.”
“I’ve a promise of horizons of rope form the Edan just for such a thing, but I reckon there’s no helping what happens if the Tek arrive. We need something quick to set up and pull down, to take with us to the next river. Ferries’ll work.”
“It’s got merit.” He stared at the map, squinting. “We’re going to all that work, why not just build a bridge?”
“You want me to list the forge-born reasons? Lumber, the time it’d take—”
“No. A bridge of ferries. We tug the first across the river, butt the bank, then another to butt the first… lash them together. A third ferry and so on, designed to hitch one to another.”
“Helluva lot of strain on a rope by the time you string out even four to five ferries.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “We brace them with poles, pound them into the river bottom at an angle at least until the river grows too deep.”
Ivin grinned. “And more stakes driven upriver on the banks, with ropes stretching to the mid-sections of the bridge. We spread the force of the river’s drag.”
“Crossing the Ilmen should be our safest crossing, so close to the Eleris. If we get enough rope and wood from the Edan we can test the idea. If a river is too wide, or it don’t work, we’ve still got all the rope and ferries for crossing. You think it’ll work?”
Ivin’s toe tapped as he stared at the map. “Damned near every shipwright we got is in New Fost.”
“A ferry isn’t nothin’ compared to a ship, no doubt we’ve people to handle the work. And if we had Current-tamers…”
“Current what?”
Trail of Pyres Page 51