The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  A magician could see me in my dream state. Any second now, they’d look up and I would have no chance. N’tombe and Rinpoche together had barely managed to survive one of these men. What chance had I against five?

  The air above the men shimmered with gold as far to the west the setting sun reached the sea. But the magicians seemed indifferent to the world’s glory, uninterested in the doomed men. Above, the golden sunlight seemed to thicken, moving like a snare or a rope. Or a many limbed snake.

  Intent in their own plots, the magicians didn’t seem to notice the cords of woven light. What had N’tombe said? I go to weave a net. It fell about them, pulled tight. The web of light lifted men and magicians from their horses. It was like watching fish, struggling against the mesh.

  Screaming, the soldiers tumbled into each other, their elbows and knees catching each other in the face. The magic workers, though, were calm. One of them thrust a nail tip against a strand, muttered something. They could see the threads! A flare of red fire, the cord broke.

  The net, heavy with struggling men, began to rock as if pushed by an invisible hand. At first the movement was tiny, mere judderings, but it built momentum quickly, swaying from side to side until the bundle of men swung across the cliff-edge, over the empty space.

  Seeing this, even the magicians began to panic. Howling their impatience, they clawed and struck at each other, at the other soldiers. Blood dripped from their faces, where they’d stabbed each other with their knife-like nails. They looked more like wild beasts than men.

  Too slow. The net burst wide, showering the men with sparks. They dropped, down into the abyss. Out they tumbled, soldiers and soothsayers both. All fell.

  One of the magicians looped a cord of light toward the cliff edge, and stayed his fall, but I fashioned a knife of gold from the forest’s light, and cut it in two. I might feel a little sorrow for the soldiers, but I had no pity for these magic workers. They would have destroyed me, if they could. As Will had said; you can’t feel sorrow all the time.

  So many men, so quickly destroyed.

  I nearly didn’t see the thin trail along the clifftop. At first it looked like the sort of track that goats or sheep, might make. Except goats or sheep don’t wear shoes – and in the soft mud were the imprints of horses. Will and Jed must have come this way!

  With the fall of the army, our journey would be safer. I would find N’tombe, and she would waken, and together we would go in search of Will and Jed. And then we would look for this weapon, wherever it was. But first, we would have to pass the broken remains of the army. There would be flies, and bits of bodies, and a terrible smell. Which would be disgusting. Still, better than the alternative of being taken captive or killed. I turned back toward the cave.

  * * *

  I stumbled over the man by accident. Half-hidden under a cairn of rock, he lay beside a damp, mossy wall. The golden light of the forest arched all about him, but where the man lay all was dark.

  There was something compelling about this man. In the shimmer of golden light, it was hard to see his face, hidden as it was beneath the stone’s shadow. One of the army, he had the same slim beard and long mustaches, the brown-yellow skin. Who was he? A long, half-healed cut, a knife slash from forehead to jaw, puckered his skin and twisted his face. I felt I knew him.

  He was badly injured. Blood oozed through a dirty bandage, tied roughly on his bare chest and the pulse at his throat was barely obvious. He smelt; not just dirt and sweat, but with the sweet, sickly smell of rotting flesh.

  As I looked at him the golden dreamlight of the forest seemed to fade. Merging into the shadow of the rock, the injured man appeared to vanish. A dark man, hidden in darkness.

  As though he knew I was watching him, he stirred. Opening his eyes, he smiled at me. Said something – “Morque’ A greeting? A curse? A name? Yes - a name.

  Oh, I knew him now.

  TeSin. I’d met this man before. He was the general, the Noyan, who watched men and women die with no more concern than if the weather had changed. I knew this, because in my dream I had become him; I had shared his emotions. He was cold, hard. But once there had been someone he loved. His wife, Morque. She had died, giving birth to their son. I knew this, because he, I, still grieved.

  Less than a month ago he’d tried to kill me. And I would have killed him, had Will not attacked first, struck him in the ribs, and twisted the blade to cause injury. As we were trained to do. TeSin must be a strong man, to linger so.

  Not for much longer. His eyes were glazing and his breathing slowed. Near to death, it would be a relief for him to slip away. And why should I care? He’d not cared for others.

  But so many men had died today – could not one survive?

  Angrily, I pulled light from the forest and wove it around him, until he seemed cocooned in gold, like a strange caterpillar waiting to hatch. He said nothing, but through the tissue of golden light I saw his eyes open. His face relaxed. He smiled; a gentle curving of the lips, and he sighed. I sighed also. He might live now. Had I done right? Suddenly, I didn’t care. It felt right to stop a death.

  Opening my eyes, I blinked at gray light. How much time had passed? The horses snuffled into their nosebags and N’tombe lay across her packs, breathing heavily. Her eyes were closed. I stood up, stretched. The bags were hard-packed leather and one had dug into my hip. I shook my legs, trying to loosen the stiffness.

  The water in my flask was stale. But I drank it anyway, and searched for food, though after so much death, I had little appetite. But one must eat when traveling, so I ate what I could find. Dough-bread, made by Will from the last of the flour. He’d twisted the dough around a stick, set it against the embers of our fire to bake. It was hard as stone and tasted like dough baked in a fire. Not that tasty. I chewed slowly, and wished for jam or butter. Or, if it was not too greedy, both.

  I tried not to think of the path down the cliff, or the men lying at its bottom.

  Outside the cave, the forest light looked dull. Birds chirped purposefully, as if they were going to bed, or waking for the day. Was it morning or evening? The air felt heavy and warm and smelt of rain. Maybe there was a storm coming.

  N’tombe sighed and sat up. “You saw?”

  I nodded.

  “You know I had to do it.”

  “I know.” I swallowed back nausea. Don’t think about it, Dana.

  “What time is it?”

  The cave seemed darker, the light dimmer.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll go and look.”

  I stepped from the cave with a light heart, thinking that soon all would be well. We were safe. We would pass down the cliff, re-join Will and Jed. That was our plan, that was our future, until I left the cave. What a fool I was! I gave no thought to our enemies. I never even considered that maybe some had not fallen. The quietness of the birds should have been a warning. But one does not hear the silence, and so I did not even realize that perhaps there was something in the forest that should not be there.

  No time to shout. My foot lifted from the cave’s threshold and stepped – where?

  A darkness seemed to open, pulling me under. Like mud swallows someone stepping into a bog. Or a monster, opening its mouth, takes its prey.

  I fell, twisting into black.

  Spiraling to nothing.

  Silence.

  Chapter Seven

  Learning to Fly

  The river roared, soaking Will and Jed with spray. The air smelt clean and fresh. It should have been pleasant, but Jed’s horse was restless. Her eyes rolled, her ears pricked forward and she jerked her head at sudden noises. Will’s gelding was no better; he jumped at shadows or falling leaves or waving ferns. Will swayed sideways in his saddle and once, he nearly fell.

  “Something coming,” said Jed

  Will nodded. At the river, when he’d stopped to fill their water flasks, he’d seen dust-colored clouds like scratches on the sky. He had said nothing. No sense in worrying the others. But he’
d seen such clouds before. They marked the passage of many men, or a fire. Maybe both. That’s how the Shield traveled; fast, without mercy, leaving naught but burnt villages, piles of skulls.

  “She said “the land changes’. What do you think she meant?”

  “Means it changes. I guess. Best be on our guard, young Will. Change ain’t never good.”

  Finally, the track began to flatten. Sunlight glimmered, the gloom of the undergrowth eased. Was the forest coming to an end? The horses, feeling the ground level out, increased their speed.

  “Hold them back,” Jed pulled at his mare’s reins.

  Will dragged at his own horse, almost pulling him onto his hind legs. Slowly, inch by inch, the travelers made their way down the slope, out into the sunlight.

  Jed whistled, long and low. The land changes, thought Will.

  They stood at the top of a high cliff. Tumbling over the cliff edge, the river became a waterfall. Wind caught the water blowing it so it rainbowed into a veil of spray. Far below, birds circled.

  Suddenly dizzy, Will backed his horse from the edge. “Now what?”

  “We fly?”

  “There’s a track.”

  Jed eyed the narrow path that followed the top of the cliff like a muddy ribbon. He groaned. “Tell me you’re joking?”

  “Unless you’d rather turn around?”

  Far away, fields rimmed with hedges lay quietly in the afternoon sun. And there, in the distance, was the line of blue that marked the sea. If only they had wings. Then they could step into space and let the air lift them up. The water rushed as it fell. The light breeze blew his hair into his eyes. Except for the enormous drop in front of them, the place felt strangely peaceful.

  Jed peered cautiously over the edge. “It’s a long way to the bottom.”

  “You could do it fast,” said Will.

  Jed grinned. “Don’t know if I’d be in one piece at the end. Best we lead the horses, don’t you think?”

  The route threaded along the cliff top until it reached a small gully that dropped abruptly downwards into a steeply sloping canyon. They passed behind rough stone, stepping around the roots of thick trees that leant over the abyss. What were N’tombe and Dana doing? Preparing something magical, no doubt. The Enchantress seemed to have a plan. Will sighed. Ah, Dana! She was so … beautiful. Determined. How smooth her skin had felt, cool and wet from the water. If only N’tombe hadn’t come upon them.

  * * *

  The men spoke seldom, and then only to swear. It was hard going; steep, with a sheer drop to one side. Spread-eagled against warm stone, fingers splayed, he felt like a lizard on a wall. His fingers trembled so hard that he could barely hold the reins. His horse, shiny with sweat, hardly seemed to care, just shook his neck and, obedient as a dog, followed his rider. After that, Will worried less about the horse and thought more of his own feet.

  It took only a few hours to reach the bottom, but it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, they neared the bottom. Rubbing his aching legs, Will stared up at the way they’d come. High above them red-gold cliffs arced against the evening sky. Far, far away, a speck moved. It seemed larger than most birds. Maybe it was an eagle. The spray from the waterfall mingled with the dark shape, made it harder to see.

  Jed stared. “What’s that?”

  “Think it’s an eagle.”

  “Nah. That’s no bird.”

  The speck grew larger. It’s falling, thought Will. Birds don’t fall. Then, suddenly, he realized: It’s not a bird. It’s a man.

  Thump. The earth shook. It sounded like a rock hitting the ground hard. Or a ripe pear, falling from a tree. The sort that breaks apart when it hits. All its juices fly out, and bits of fruit go everywhere.

  “There’s more,” Jed pointed.

  He was right; more men fell. And horses. Screaming, twisting, fighting the air. A few dropped quietly, as if this was a final adventure. These ones laid themselves flat, like arrows pointing at the ground. They had their arms by their sides and they plunged fast. A rain of men, falling.

  “So,” Jed looked at him.

  “So.” Will couldn’t bear to watch. To draw his mind from the sight, he asked, “Do you think that’s the army?”

  “Must be,” said Jed. “Unless there’s a crowd of men failing flying lessons at the top.” He turned back to the track. “Not much further to go, now, Will. Wonder how the Enchantress and your Princess are faring?”

  “You think N’tombe’s done this?”

  Jed nodded.

  Will felt sick. So many men, dying. So many horses, too. “Such a waste,” he said.

  “You’d rather it was your head on their spear, lad?”

  A favorite trick of the Shield: if you needed to be made an example of, you were impaled, and then beheaded. Your head, stuck on the top of a spear, would be carried into battle – a warning to others.

  “I guess falling isn’t a bad way to go,” said Will, over the thud of bodies.

  “Over quickly and only hurts once,” agreed Jed, his eyes tracking a falling figure. He winced when it hit the ground.

  Finally, the sky above was clear. Relieved, the men turned to go.

  “Hold,” said Will, quickly. More specks had appeared in the sky above. But these were different. Were they men? Or something else?

  “Down,” hissed Jed.

  Will threw himself behind a rock. Jed flattened himself onto the ground, pulled his cloak above his face, so blending into the mud.

  They were men, falling, sure enough. Some screamed and fell. But others spread their cloaks, holding them open so they looked like giant bats. They watched the ground as they fell. Who were these men? Will half-expected them to lift above the treetops, to grow wings, and at the last minute soar upwards.

  But the men fell and hit the ground hard, and then there was no more sound. The birdsong quieted. Even the wind seemed to hush.

  “Think we’d better check them ones. Seem like the kind of people who might just endure that fall,” Jed picked himself up off the track.

  They were magicians, thought Will. Soothsayers. I hope Dana is all right. Those men, they’re not to be trifled with. He loosened his blade. How ruthless N’tombe must be, to send so many men to their deaths. Yet what choice did she have? It was as he’d said to Dana – kill or be killed. What choice did any of them have?

  The dead lay far from the base of the cliff, as if they’d flown westwards while falling. They’d torn branches as they’d landed, creating a clearing, so the men lay under open sky. The place smelt of fresh sap and blood.

  They looked like broken toys. Blood pooled beneath them, splattered the rocks. The magicians, their matted hair blood-specked, lay staring angrily up at the cliff. Jed dismounted and plunged his knife into their necks, just to be sure.

  “No bleeding. They’re definitely dead.” He sounded pleased.

  Ripe fruit, thought Will, feeling nauseous. He turned away.

  “Shame to let that meat go to waste,” Jed eyed the broken bodies.

  “You’re not suggesting …”

  “No! Hell, no! Not the men. Just the horses.”

  “Eat the horses?”

  “Why not? They’re dead, ain’t they? And we’ll need food before long.”

  Flies hummed. The cliff reflected warmth from the sun; Will could feel the difference from the cool forest. Jed started chopping flesh from a horse leg. Will turned away; he didn’t want to look at the broken trees, the broken men. There was a flicker in the trees.

  “Jed!” he called.

  Jed looked up, just as the wolf came out of the trees. “Aargh!”

  He grabbed the leg, now free from its owner, and rushed back to his wary chestnut. Ears cocked back, the animal shuffled its feet, staring at the wolf. It circled, trying to get away. One foot in a stirrup, Jed hopped about, trying to clamber onto the horse without dropping the meat.

  Any other place, thought Will, watching Jed struggling with a circling horse, this might be funny. But not here, not wi
th all the dead men staring at the sky. He set an arrow against his bowstring and aimed it at the wolf.

  But with all these unresisting bodies to feed upon the big animal wasn’t interested in moving meat The wolf growled at Will, a noise that made Will’s horse shiver, but otherwise left him to pass on into the trees. As Will looked back, he saw other shadowy figures come free of the wood. All the predators of the forest will be out tonight.

  “Come on,” he said.

  * * *

  Birds sang their nighttime chorus. The ground was stony and rough and there was no sign of a track. The only marker was the cliff; if they kept its gray ramparts at their backs then at least they knew they were traveling toward the coast, where the Enchantress had said they would meet.

  They walked slowly, their horses stumbling and weary. We need shelter, thought Will. If we don’t stop soon, we’ll have a horse with a broken leg. And then where will we be?

  Finally, the wood opened and the travelers passed into a small glade, where a river trickled gently over rocks. The trees at the edge of the clearing were charred as if by a great fire, and in the center lay a toppled oak. Its spreading roots were silhouetted against the darkening sky.

  “There was a fire here,” said Will.

  “Lightning,” Jed replied. “Maybe.”

  They dismounted and stretched and Will led the horses down to the water.

  Jed glared up at the gathering clouds. “Looks like rain.”

  The horseflesh was tough as boot leather. But it was meat, and Will was hungry, and it was better than an empty stomach. Tonight, even boiled bracken root tasted good.

  They cleared away the dishes, washing them in the stream lest a bear or boar might smell them and investigate. Then they strung the remains of the horse leg into a tree and unrolled their sleep rolls. The fire burned down to embers, the horses murmured, whickering softly to each other. Leaves dropped on the tarpaulin above. Will lay on his bedroll, tried to sleep. Lord knew, he was tired enough. But he worried, oh how he worried. Was she well?