Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  “Let me suppose… You travel south with a Trelelunin, with the blessing of the Edan! I will not ask how, I just know it is. The Dragonspans, across the Gediswon River, this is your destination. Yes?”

  “You are wise, Duke.”

  “What other choice do you have? Beyond the Ilombar Alliance you must still pass the Malstefne, the Loenfarar, and the Malobun nations. The Loenfarar is a kingdom of expansive ground, but few people in the east. If you make it so far, you should fare well through those rolling lands. The king may never know you passed.” He chuckled. “But down south, the other two are trouble.”

  Something in the strength of his gaze left him with the notion there was more. He wasn’t the only one.

  Solineus said, “I reckon it’s what’s down south which concerns you, which should concern me.”

  The Duke glanced to Solineus, but spoke to Ivin. “What does it matter? I offer you safe passage past Rexu, Tarmar, Vardo, and Litra.”

  Ivin wiped the dew from his glass. “What is the southern price?”

  “So cynical. Nothing you wouldn’t need do anyhow.”

  “What the hells does that mean?”

  The Duke sighed. “The Malstefne, who are friendly with my enemy, are south. They will not allow you safe passage, you will need fight your way down the Blooded Plain.”

  “And our fight will pull men from your war.”

  “You are a shrewd man, Choerkin. All we ask is you move with some haste. When Malstefne moves their Fourth Army, Litra will strike their seventh at Marziin. Marziin will either fall, or they will need draw the Second Army from Zemota, in case of the latter, Vardo strikes. You and your people, my friend, might be the tug on the chain to topple my foe.”

  Ivin squirmed in his seat. “Making us tools in your war.”

  “I am your tool to see you safe all the way to the Porro-ok River.”

  “And if they don’t attack us? If they see fit to let us pass?”

  Ovrin shook his head. “Let me help you. My wager is simple: When you reach the Porro-ok you will have choices, a dangerous crossing upriver, or to cross the Dinsang Bridge. You could beseech the Malstefne to let you pass, and they might… but only to split your people in two for slaughter. But you won’t know that until it happens. Your next option is to take the bridge.”

  Solineus said, “And taking the bridge pulls the Fourth Army to us.”

  Ovrin snapped his fingers with a smile. “Yes! And I could be wrong, they might ignore your attack, but…”

  Ivin said, “They won’t. Which leaves us at war with women and children.”

  “A war with allies! Even if the Litra do not fight by your side, their strike at Marziin will draw them back. All you need do is stay alive.”

  Ivin glanced around the table. “I’ve no doubt the Silone lords will accept this offer of safe passage?”

  Solineus said, “Emudar agrees.”

  Rikis’ eyes were shaky, either from nerves or whiskey. “Agreed.”

  Remnar Broldun stood, his glass raised. “An agreement which serves both sides well is fair in my eyes.”

  Tedeu stayed in her seat, her face a frown, and for a flicker Ivin feared dissent. “The Ravinrin concur.”

  Heshiu Bulubar remained in her seat. “I’ll accept the free passage, but with a bitter taste in my mouth.” Ivin hoped Lelishen didn’t translate every word verbatim.

  Zorun Mulharth stood. “I see no choice.”

  Which left the Tuvrikt unspoken for. Yosif stood. “More ice for this drink and my northern blood! Then, our peoples will be in accord.”

  Ivin drained his glass and poured another: A war two months distant was better than one tomorrow. Or at least, the notion sure as hells made sense. Ivin raised his filled glass in salute. “To war with the Malstefne.”

  Ovrin stood and refilled his own glass. “Indeed!”

  Unless Ivin could find a way out of this trap. But he smiled, taking the gift of safe travel so far as it would take him, and that night he studied the map with Meliu, and they chose the city of Vaejoen.

  Kinesee enjoyed the roasted ram as much as any meal she’d ever eaten. The music and sauced meats were what her childhood fantasies of kings and queens were made of, and it pushed the horrors from her mind for a time. Until she noticed Sedut sitting nearby. The high priestess didn’t even notice her.

  That would not suffice.

  She tugged Maro to her level. “That’s the one who took me.”

  “I know, m’lady.”

  Kinesee let go of him and grumbled. She forgave taking her, more or less, since the woman slaughtered all them Tek Merseng archers, but she couldn’t forgive nor forget the mystery the priestess left behind. She only forgave Leto’s turning her over to Sedut when Meliu explained that there was a priest, an expert in disguise, wrecking havoc with folks all around camp. That was enough forgiveness for one year.

  She stood, “I’ll be back in a flicker.” Kinesee sauntered to the Choerkin table and waited for a quiet point in the flutist’s song. “Meliu.”

  The priestess turned with a smile, a bite of spiced bread in her mouth. “What is it, Kinesee?”

  “I wanna talk to Sedut.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  Kinesee groaned. “Yes.” She stomped off, but instead of heading for her seat she walked straight up to Sedut. “I want words with you.”

  The priestess gave her a cockeyed glance. “I’m not surprised.”

  “You owe me.”

  “Do I?”

  “You kidnapped me! And it’s not like he killed you.”

  A tight-lipped grin as Maro found his ward. “What words would you like? A sorry?”

  Maro said, “Let’s leave this priestess alone, little lady.”

  “Not yet. Who is Nesfereum? Meliu told me about some priest, and lions and lies.”

  “You are a bold child. Not a who, or at least I don’t believe so… Are you certain you wish to know?”

  “I deserve to know who wants me dead.”

  “The Nesfereum is named for Efvereut, and follows the heretical teachings of its founder, a lord priest in the second century of Remembered Time. They’re a cabal who seeks to overthrow the clans—”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “And to realign the Church, forsaking Sol for his brother, Rin.”

  “What the hells are you even talking about?”

  Maro said, “Sol killed Rin in battle at the birth of the universe.”

  “Kill or defeat? The Nesfereum exists within the Church, but Ulrikt never discovered who they are. Those men trying to kill you, the Nesfereum paid them.”

  “You don’t know who they are, but you thought I did?”

  She laughed. “No. I was trying to gain a feel for you… They wouldn’t pay for your life without reason. I wanted an idea maybe, of what prophecy they thought you might fulfill, and which they would want to end.”

  Her smile didn’t make Kinesee feel good, not one bit. “Me? A prophecy?”

  “Over the centuries hundreds have died trying to steer the fates in one direction or another. You would’ve been another. With the Nesfereum interested in your end, I am interested in your living.”

  Maro glared. “And to use this child to find them.”

  Sedut shrugged. “I— I am working on that.”

  “You godsdamned be sure to let me and her father know when you learn anything.”

  “I will. We’re on the same side. Now.”

  Kinesee said, “I would just as soon all you lipper-lapping holies stay away.”

  “Even your friend, Meliu? Trust her, trust me. If another priest comes to your bed at night… Scream.”

  Kinesee swallowed hard, and the words came difficult. “Thank you.”

  “Anything, anyone suspicious, you tell your father, Maro, Meliu, the Choerkin… and me, if you want to live.”

  Kinesee wasn’t so sure she should’ve been so stubborn as to force this conversation. Ignorance may’ve meant better nights of sleep. “I wil
l.”

  57

  Drowning in the Rung

  When the men of Praxis found themselves trapped in the mines of Vulharthu, a dozen men attempted to jump the chasm and died. History remembers Suntileon’s leap, his crossing saving a thousand men. Of those thousand, how many too might have made the jump? The difference between “can” and “did” is more than being capable, it is being willing.

  –Codex of Sol

  Day Eighty-Two on the Trail of Pyres

  Duke Ovrin was true to his words: The kingdoms of Rexu, Tarmar, and Vardo let them pass without seeing a Tek face after the feast ended. More than a month of peace pleased Ivin, and strengthened the people with wild game, fish, and as much Gutgrinder as their stomachs could handle. The strong hardened by the day, and the pyres at night burned low with those few who succumbed to the heat of this region of the world, or to one of several diseases which suffered the people with outbreaks. The elderly and the infirm, but life and the caravan moved inexorably south toward the Loetozu and the Tek Litra border.

  “In the sagas of legend, great warlords road at the heads of their armies, not the dirt and shit end.”

  Ivin laughed at the Broldun’s observation. Today they rode trailing the caravan, the so-called Fire Riders looking out for the dead, even if those were far between these days. “You’re saying we’re damned lousy warlords?”

  “Mmm, just thinkin’ aloud.” He rubbed his wounded hand; what healers they’d found weren’t able to get his finger straightened again, and he refused the help of holies. “What kinda song they gonna write about us? Eating dust and burning the dead.”

  Solineus pointed ahead, a scattered line of people stretching to the horizon and beyond, on a trudging journey to an end they didn’t know. “We get those people any place safe, I reckon the songs will forget all about our saddle sores, the dirt, and what kind of dead animal we smell like.”

  “Mmm, I ain’t smelled myself in weeks, but you’re damned ripe.”

  Ivin said, “The next river will take care of that anyhow, if you both don’t drown. And you saved a little baby, succored now by your wife: This is the light in the dark of great sagas.” The Broldun didn’t say a word, but Ivin the man took pride in his wife and child.

  The Loetozu was the next rung on the ladder of rivers, and he prayed that rains in the region had been light, but dark clouds loomed to the southeast for the last several days. Lelishen claimed the Loetozu was narrow, rapid, and deep as it left the forests of the Trelelunin, but by the time it approached the Tek Vardo and Litra borders, it grew broad and shallow. No easy task to cross any river, but with fortune on their side, they’d drag their weary bones across to traipse to the Porro-ok, where things promised to get more interesting.

  They ascended a long sloping hill as the Silone disappeared over the rise, and when they crowned its ridge Ivin blanched. They’d reached the Selislean for damned sure, but the river wasn’t narrow, it was over its banks.

  Black clouds billowed to the east, lightning lighting the horizon. “This shit could get worse.”

  Solineus chuckled. “Least it isn’t the rainy season.” He pointed to jagged rocks on the slope. “I reckon the floods reach there and higher.”

  Polus snorted. “We better see what folks are thinkin’.”

  By the time they arrived, the thinking was obvious: Straight ahead as planned. Folks canoed across with lines of heavy rope, and the clunking rhythm of mallets driving stakes into both sides of the river echoed across the valley.

  They found Rikis, Remnar Broldun, and Zorun Mulharth overseeing the work from an outcropping of rock jutting from the hill.

  Ivin said, “Looks like more rain upriver.”

  Zorun said, “Aye, why people are a hurryin’. A quick crossing in case that there storm blows fer days more.”

  Polus grunted as he dismounted. “Don’t s’pose a storm and flood like that could wake up no river dragon, do ya?”

  Ivin glanced at the man, but couldn’t tell whether he was serious. “Don’t need a dragon with them currents. We might be better served sitting out a few days, see if this washes past.”

  With ropes taut, men pushed the first bridge-ferry from the banks of the Selislean and into rushing waters. A dozen men climbed aboard, heaving on the rope to drag themselves across.

  Rikis said, “May as well give it a go, now. A dozen links in the bridge at most and we can move on.

  Solineus dismounted and stretched as a second ferry hit the waters. “Lookin’ fine so far.”

  Ivin sighed and gazed east. “It isn’t now I’m worried about. Make sure no one hurries too much, folks in a hurry tend to forget important things.

  The first time Meliu watched people build a bridge of boats, she’d found it fascinating and impressive. And worrying. The thrill transformed into routine after a few rivers.

  She sat above the sweaty work of lugging ropes and pounding poles into the river’s bottom, staring at the Codex of Sol with a misery she never expected to find in study.

  Forget the code, even the text not set to a cipher was agony for her tired mind, and unworthy of reading from what she’d read so far. Except somewhere in that boredom might lie the key to unlock some other secret.

  So far, only one interesting tidbit and that involved the Choerkin. Speaking of whom…

  She stood and called out, “Ivin!” The man was oblivious or her voice didn’t carry over the din of work around him. “Ivin!” She cried out four more shouts before he heard her, and three more before he spotted her.

  Meliu looked to the bridge stretching the river as he approached, ten linked ferries stretching most of the way back from the other side. Within a candle folks would begin crossingthe turbulent waters.

  Ivin sat beside her, tapped a gaudy orange and red rendering of a dragon on the corner of the Codex’s page. “Pretty thing considering it eats folks.”

  She leaned into him. “Not all dragons eat people.”

  “They do if their stories are worth the breath. Find anything interesting in there?”

  Her lips flapped with a phhbbt. “I haven’t found the key to a single cipher so far. But I found reference to an ancient Choerkin.”

  “Kin of mine in that book?”

  “I figured so at first: Warlord Sedutine Choerkin.”

  He puffed his chest. “Sounds godsdamned impressive, don’t it?”

  “Don’t get cocky, Choerkin. Turns out your name wasn’t a family nor clan during the Age of God Wars.”

  “You shittin’ me?”

  “Sedutine might’ve been related… but the title of Warlord wasn’t hereditary by law, even if common practice. They served under the Olhin-prine, the King Priest. If he was your blood, likely he was a distant cousin.”

  “Interesting, but useless.” They both laughed. “So, where is this Choerkin in here?”

  She pointed to the dragon page. “Choerkin, in high—” A tiny blob of ink horned from the letter for “ch” in the name. How’d she miss it before? “Dancing Bastards, I’m a nitwit. Pull me that weed there.”

  He gave her a curious smile as he plucked the plant and held out the dry stem. “What the hells are you doing?”

  “Watch. Pointed stars surround your man-eating dragon.” She laid the stem on the odd speck so it connected to the lower left corner of the letter, and straightening its length, it went right to the point of a star. “Now, swing the stem to this point and…” The left page was a cipher, and the stem ran through lots of letters and symbols. “I need a real straight edge. But one of those symbols is ‘ch’!”

  Ivin’s brow arched. “How many letters in the old alphabet?”

  An exasperated sigh. “You are my Choerkin rain cloud. Thirty-six.” She slammed the tome shut and stuffed it into her pack as lightning streaked the eastern sky.

  Kinesee fidgeted by Solineus’ side as a string of warriors stepped onto the bridge, always the first to cross in order to set what father called a perimeter. Times before she’d never been in a hurry
to get across, but the look in Solineus’ eyes as he stared east at the booming storm convinced her she wanted on the southern bank.

  She took his hand. “I’m not scared.”

  His smile said he understood she lied. “Aye, I want my feet on them planks fast as can be. The sooner we’re on the steep sloped side, the better.”

  The first warriors reached the opposite shore when their turn in line came. Solineus held her hand from the bank and hopped down to the floating floor; her legs wobbled, and she could feel the waters dragging hard on the timbers.

  She wasn’t embarrassed to say it. “I don’t like this.” But her hero landed beside her, and she knew there was no way he’d let her drown. “Where’s Alu?”

  “She’ll be coming with the Ravinrin.”

  A man behind them said, “My legs are wobbling like the Dancing Bastards! Get going.”

  Solineus wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they walked pressed between a hundred bodies. She glanced east when her line of sight cleared; The big ropes crossing upriver caught several logs and other debris. Is that a body?

  She turned away, determined not to let her imagination get the best of her, but her gaze wandered back. The corpse was gone if it was ever there, but further upstream what looked like an entire tree. She yanked on Solineus’ arm and pointed.

  “Son of a… Don’t you worry, the ropes’ll catch it. We learned that lesson back at the Ilmen.”

  Plenty of people died at the Ilmen, or so the Mocking Fish told her. She watched the log strike the ropes; the strands already straining under the force of debris leaned the stakes driven into the banks.

  “Hurry!” But there was no hurrying in the pressing bustle of bodies.

  “The ropes will hold, sweet girl. They’ll hol—”

  Whatever he saw she didn’t want to see, but her head turned anyhow. The waters rose higher, and a bobbing darkness in the waters appeared, horned shadows on its head; at first she figured it for a monster, but it was a massive tree with its roots ripped from somewhere in the forest.