“They don’t? Sounds like a demon talent to me.”
Mellish returned a quiet chuckle. “So eager for another taste of pain? I can accommodate your desires.”
“No, thank you. What are you reading?”
“Information on demons. A history of my order.”
He placed the book, open, on the ground. She could see the pages were covered with tiny text and illustrations.
“You can read?” she said before she could stop herself. She managed a fake smile. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re knights. Our Order has—”
“You’re not bloody knights! You’re deranged! You torture people, and you’ve imprisoned me with this”—Kurio tugged at the metal collar around her neck—“arcane shackle.”
Mellish gave her a thin smile. “We only torture demons and those that serve them.”
“But that’s … Argh! You stupid oaf! Can’t you see I’m human?”
“Get some sleep,” he said curtly. “We’ll be starting out before dawn. I want no more of your talk tonight.”
Fuming, Kurio wrapped herself in the blanket against the chill of the night. She knew better than to argue with Mellish when he’d made his mind up. His thoughts ran a narrow path, and he wasn’t easily swayed. No doubt it was an aptitude Zarina found useful.
Mellish wasn’t the brains of their little outfit. If little it was. The sorcerer Zarina was in charge. Killing Mellish would only be the beginning. She took a deep breath, tasting cold air on her tongue.
She would have to be careful. Others she’d seen on a path of vengeance always ended up broken or dead. But she was different. Her talent set her apart. And now … perhaps her blood.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sketchy Plans
THE MORNING AFTER THEIR arrival, Aldric watched as Niklaus drew a map of the village and the surrounding area in a patch of earth he’d swept clear of leaves and twigs. Stray Dog, Razmus, Bryn, and Soki stood with Aldric around the crude map, while Priska wandered in a circle, gazing at the houses about them. She looked on edge for some reason and kept glancing at Razmus. If she and her father were arguing about something, now wasn’t the time, Aldric thought.
All of them were munching on soft rolls filled with a sticky, preserved fruit mixture. Neb had dropped a basket of the rolls with them a short time ago, before stomping off muttering about bringing some of the settlers back with him to listen to their plans for defense of the settlement.
“Hills here,” said Niklaus, scratching curves in the dirt. He peered toward the edges of the valley to the east and west. “And cliffs here.” He marked lines on both sides of a cluster of boxes—the settlers’ houses.
Aldric squatted beside the diagram and pointed to the eastern cliffs. “Neb said the Dead-eyes came from the east. So they have a way down the cliffs. Maybe there’s a trail. There are bound to be crevasses and rockfalls they can negotiate.”
Niklaus nodded and placed the tip of his stick on the hills even farther east. “And they have to come from here. Or at least pass through, if their tribe is in the mountains.”
“Why wait around here?” Bryn said. “We should hunt them down and kill them. Maybe we’ll be lucky, and they’ll be led by a wraithe.”
Aldric suppressed a shiver. He had no desire to encounter another wraithe. It seemed Bryn had come along to test himself; he didn’t care about the settlers.
“No,” Aldric said firmly. “We can’t risk it. Full-dark is soon, and if the Dead-eyes attack Cherish while we’re out searching for them, it won’t go well for the settlers.”
Bryn chuckled. “That’s understating it. They’ll be slaughtered.”
Aldric clamped down on an outburst. The swordsman would be worth a hundred untrained settlers when it came to fighting, so he didn’t want to put him off side.
“We have practically no time,” he said instead. “We have to train the settlers as best we can and organize some defenses before we do anything else. The Dead-eyes won’t attack in numbers yet, but some could be out scavenging for food and might be tempted by the settlement. Or maybe they’ll send a few scouts.”
Bryn rolled his eyes. “Good luck getting these fools to wield a weapon properly. I still say we hunt the Dead-eyes. It’s stupid to wait here. How about you, Niklaus? What do you say?”
Niklaus looked at Aldric. “The magister is right, I’m afraid.”
Bryn groaned, and Stray Dog chuckled at the swordsman’s irritated expression.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aldric saw Valeria approaching. The priestess stopped short of joining them, took Priska by the arm, and drew her a few steps away. She bent close to Priska and whispered. Priska laughed, then shook her head.
“We can’t wander off,” continued Niklaus, “until we’re sure the settlement will be here when we get back. The Dead-eyes are unlikely to return until full-dark, but I’ve seen them attack in numbers at other times. When they were pushed.”
Aldric stood, grateful for the mercenary’s backing. “Defending the settlement is a priority,” he said. “We need some barricades, and the settlers should set up a watch. If we find the trail the Dead-eyes are using to get down the cliffs, we can stop them in their tracks.”
Stray Dog cleared his throat. “I don’t think the settlers should hide in their houses. They’re too spread out.” He placed a large finger in the middle of the map. “We can build some barricades here, between the houses—create a defensible area big enough for all the settlers. That way, when the Dead-eyes come, they’ll have a safe haven.”
“If they huddle behind a barricade, it won’t do them any good,” Priska said from behind Aldric. “The settlers don’t want to ward the Dead-eyes off. They want them killed or driven away, never to return.”
“But it’ll keep them safe while we fight,” Aldric said. “It’s a good idea.”
“Perhaps we should go further,” Niklaus said. “There won’t be too many Dead-eyes, so we could use the barricades to funnel them into a killing space where we can outflank and slaughter them. The settlers can help by keeping the Dead-eyes penned with spears. If we don’t have to worry about the settlers running around in a panic like last night, we’ll be free to hunt the Dead-eyes that burst through or scale the barriers.”
Bryn barked a laugh. “I like your thinking, Niklaus. Keep the sheep penned while the wolves roam free. There’s one problem.” He held out his hands, palms up. “These hands weren’t made for manual labor. I’d rather let sharptooths in the sea strip the flesh from my bones than put down my sword to pick up an axe.”
“Nothing wrong with axes,” grumbled Stray Dog. “I’ve built a barricade or two in my time. I can organize the settlers and get the work started. It’s mostly just cutting down trees and tying them together.”
“The settlers will do the hard work,” Niklaus said. “That’s what they’re used to.”
Reluctantly, Aldric nodded. “Niklaus is right. It’s their village, and I’m sure they want to save it. We’re more valuable training them to fight. We can arrange shifts. A few of us will oversee the building of defenses, while the others can train the settlers with weapons.”
Stray Dog scratched behind his ear, then examined his fingernail. “The settlers won’t want to leave their fields and other work.”
“Too bad,” Aldric said. “It’s only a few days, and better a slight delay than being dead.”
“What about sorcery?” asked Priska. She’d come close to Aldric’s back, and her words were pitched low, as if for him alone, but not soft enough the others hadn’t heard.
“Yes,” Niklaus said. “What about sorcery? Can’t you find the Dead-eyes and destroy them from here?”
Aldric shot the mercenary a dark look. From the twinkle in Niklaus’s eyes, he realized the mercenary knew exactly what sorcery was capable of and why what he’d suggested couldn’t be done. He’d asked the question because it would be in the others’ minds. But even Soki wouldn’t be able to do what Niklaus had suggested, though there
were legends of sorcerers who’d done much more. And in his relic dreams, Aldric had seen what the ancient sorcerers were capable of.
“That’s something only the greatest sorcerers could do,” he said. “And I’m far from an adept. We’ll have to kill the Dead-eyes with cold steel. If there’s anything more powerful directing them, we’ll rely on Sokhelle. I’m sure she has a few tricks up her sleeve.”
Bryn sniffed, and Stray Dog nodded thoughtfully. With any luck, the question of sorcery wouldn’t come up again.
Menselas must have had a reason for gifting him with both the god’s powers and the stain of sorcery. But his reticence to use the dusk-tide forces severely hamstrung his abilities. Perhaps this was why he was reconsidering after so many years of aversion?
Priska moved to Soki’s side and looked at her with a pleading expression. “When will we train again?”
“Tonight. I promise.”
“Why not now? I’ve learned so much already in such a short time.”
“We’re about to be attacked by goodness knows how many Dead-eyes,” Soki said sharply. “We have to see to the settlers’ safety first.”
“If I know more sorcery, I’ll be better able to help them.”
“Enough!” Soki snapped. “If this is your attitude, maybe I should discontinue your training.” She glared at Priska before her expression softened and she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to control you. I’m not here to be a nursemaid. I’ll teach you for a little longer, but then you’re on your own. You’ll either survive, or you’ll succumb to your growing arrogance, and someone will take matters into their own hands.”
Priska’s mouth drew into a tight line, but she nodded to Soki.
Valeria laid a hand on Priska’s shoulder. “Sokhelle is jealous of your talents,” she said, loud enough for them all to hear. “When we get back to Caronath, come and see me. My Church could use someone of your abilities.”
“Don’t try to corrupt her,” Soki said. “Once I’m done with her training, she’ll be able to make her own decisions. But until then, she’s mine.”
“It was just a job offer,” said Valeria. “Once you’ve discarded her.”
“Enough,” Aldric said. “You must put your differences aside while we’re here.”
Training another sorcerer, Soki could handle. At least until Priska unlearned enough to start down a more efficient path of logic and calculations. Then … well, Aldric would decide if that happened. If Valeria was trying to entice Priska to join her Church, then perhaps Aldric should intervene. No good would come from Valeria, of that he was certain. The Lady Sylva Kalisia was mysterious to him, an unknown, but having dominion over pain and suffering told a story all its own.
Niklaus chuckled. “I thought sorcerers were rare, but there’s three of you here! We’re truly blessed with an abundance of talent. And all for some Dead-eyes.” He raised his eyebrows. “It makes you think, doesn’t it?”
Soki gave Niklaus a sharp look, and Aldric had to concede he had a point. Three sorcerers, at least two people touched by their deity, and a few extremely skilled warriors, all in the one small group.
“Here’s your friend,” Niklaus said, looking over Aldric’s shoulder.
Aldric turned to see Neb scurrying toward them, his battered hat on his head. Accompanying him were three children with bandaged arms or legs, and a young man with his arm in a sling. Trailing behind them came Shand, who wore a clean skirt today and looked like she’d washed her face.
“Magister Aldric,” Neb said, “we need your help. These children cut themselves on sharp rocks when they decided to climb a cliff and a section gave way. And young Alvar here broke his arm chopping down trees the other day. He was careless, and one fell on him. I only just found out, and his mother is distraught. Can you heal them here, or do you need somewhere special? A holy place? There’s a clearing just inside the forest where people go to pray, with idols for a few different gods. You could—”
Aldric held up a hand, and Neb’s chatter stopped. “Inside your common hall is fine. It’ll be comfortable there.”
“Good news travels fast,” Niklaus said with a mocking smile. “You go look after the settlers, Aldric—heal their cuts and bruises, and kiss them goodnight. We’ll work on some defenses and training. Hopefully three days’ training will be enough so they don’t skewer each other. Maybe they’ll have a chance against the Dead-eyes.”
~ ~ ~
Valeria refilled Hazel’s cup with tea. The porcelain was glazed a light blue and was almost delicate. Probably one of the elderly matron’s family heirlooms. Three young women sat around the table with them, all dressed in their best clothes, if she didn’t miss her guess. The rest of the cottage matched the old woman’s appearance: worn, haggard, faded.
The girls drank from cups or mugs they’d brought with them. Hazel’s tiny house lacked basic comforts as well as space.
“I’m sorry about the quality of the tea,” Valeria said. “Someone took a bag of my best leaf, and I’ve had to stretch what I have left. It’s not too bad though, thanks to the tea you found in the back of your cupboard.”
“I don’t know how long it was there,” said Hazel in a trembling voice. Her wrinkled hands rested in front of her on the thick table.
Years, probably. Valeria smiled and sipped from her cup, twin to Hazel’s.
“Never mind,” she said. “We’ll make do. That’s what the men expect, isn’t it?” She chuckled self-deprecatingly, as if there was nothing they could do to change their situation. Hazel had been easy to influence and jumped at the opportunity to host a gathering.
Small steps, Valeria reminded herself. These women were like sparrows, come to peck at the seeds she had sprinkled. A sudden move would startle them into flight. But if she was lucky, there would be one among them who had enough backbone and fire to be useful to her goddess; and Valeria could test her for signs she’d been touched by Sylva Kalisia.
The goddess’s power was bestowed in what at times seemed a haphazard manner. Valeria herself had been unaware of being chosen from so many other girls in her village, until one night, when she was outside taking in the beauty of the moons, a woman had approached her. A priestess of the goddess.
So far, in Cherish, Valeria hadn’t seen any of the girls drawn to the moons, though she made a circuit of the tawdry settlement. Still, the moons were only slivers at the moment, with full-dark almost upon them. And she probably wouldn’t be here when the moons were full, which was the best time to search for potential priestesses. She’d have to follow Niklaus wherever he went after they’d dealt with the Dead-eyes. For better or worse, she’d hitched her wagon to his.
“Priestess Valeria?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Tell us again about your goddess,” the straw-haired woman gushed, “and what she does. Forgive me but …” She glanced at the young women to either side of her. “We heard rumors she worships pain and suffering.”
“The goddess worships nothing,” said Valeria smoothly. “She is a goddess, after all.”
The women chuckled.
“My guess is you’ve been told a version of the truth far removed from reality. Probably twisted by your menfolk.”
Valeria didn’t hate men herself; they were useful tools. But that was all they were. They thought with their members and their blades and couldn’t be trusted with complex tasks. Which was one reason she was fascinated by Niklaus. Why would the goddess choose a man to be her Chosen Sword, rather than a woman?
“Life,” Valeria continued, “is pain. Hazel will tell you this.”
The old matron nodded her scraggly head. “It’s true! From birth to death, we experience pain.”
“Exactly,” said Valeria. “What people have warped in their desire to denigrate the goddess is merely a reflection of our lives. Pain grounds us, teaches us, and brings forth life.”
One woman, the youngest, Shand, shifted in her seat and frowned into her mug of tea. Valeria noted th
at she hadn’t drunk any yet.
Shand cleared her throat. “How do you become an acolyte of the goddess?”
Ah, thought Valeria. Now we’re getting somewhere …
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sparks
IN SANSOR, THE MAIN city of what many ignorants termed the “heathen” realm of Kaile, settlers who braved the wilderness to carve out another slice of earth for humanity were revered for their courage and toughness. More warriors than farmers, these settlers lived in squalid conditions until they could be sure the area around the land they’d claimed was relatively safe, as there were many creatures out in the wilderness that didn’t hesitate to dine on human flesh. Only then would they build more permanent structures and bring out livestock and their loved ones. To them, the settlers of Cherish would seem weak and stupid. But to Niklaus, there wasn’t much between them. Neither knew the reality of what lurked in the remotest parts of the wilderness, nor the horrors the land they coveted had already witnessed. But Niklaus knew. Firsthand.
He checked on Stray Dog and Razmus, who had managed to erect a few barricades already. The walls, comprised of saplings no thicker than his forearm, were shoulder-high and so makeshift there were many gaps, some wide enough to stick his hand through. But the barricades didn’t need to stop arrows, just Dead-eyes.
The Dead-eyes’ spindly limbs and fingers enabled them to scramble over anything, but the barricades would at least slow them down. And hopefully draw them into the funnel Stray Dog was creating, where, they all hoped, the settlers would be able to skewer or bludgeon the creatures to death.
“It’s just digging holes and securing the logs,” Stray Dog said in response to Niklaus’s surprised look. “And the settlers have been working hard. It’s amazing how motivating the fear of death can be.”
As Niklaus watched, four settlers pulled on ropes to raise another barricade between two buildings. When it was upright, another three men shoveled dirt into the holes the main pillars rested in. After the dirt had been tamped down, two more men secured the barricade with wet rope to supporting timbers.
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