The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  Or was it shouting? Was that my name being called?

  “Dana! Dana!”

  The magicians turned toward the sound. I lay on the roadway, panting like a fresh-caught fish.

  “Dana!”

  It was my name!

  From the capsized cart, three people ran toward me. One carried a knife that shone against the storm-dark sky. The other held a bow. As I watched, he placed an arrow against the string. And the third? The other was all a-flame. Power and might and majesty. The Guardians saw her, and together they shouted, as if in recognition. The light on the shears caught and flared, reaching into the sky like a torch, and

  Crash!

  Light poured through me. I felt myself growing, expanding. Like a giant, I towered above the road. Below me, puny men groveled. I laughed to see their fear. Who were these creatures? Why had I feared them? They were lesser beings than I.

  “Dana!”

  I picked up the magicians, flicked them away as a dog flicks away fleas. Tossed them against the rocks, where they broke and bled and no doubt died.

  The swordsman raised his sword.

  “Will!”

  I dwindled down, down, returning to Dana, the sixteen year old. I was a girl, standing on the roadway, facing a boy. He grinned at me a little shakily and held his arms wide. I smiled and stepped into his embrace.

  “Hello,” I said.

  Part Four

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joined

  The boys shuffled forward toward the barges. Soldiers in chain mail lined the streets and kept the townsfolk apart from the children. Although their grasp on their weapons appeared relaxed, the soldier’s eyes were watchful. People covered their faces with their hands, as if they could not bear to watch the boys walking past, and tears trickled through their fingers. Cowering behind the row of guardsmen, the townspeople were silent.

  At the back of the crowd, Master Yang tipped his head, as if listening for one person. There. His head lifted.

  The apprentice walked with the other boys. He had a satchel slung across his shoulders and his feet were bare. Around his wrist was a leather thong, braided with small beads of jade. He crossed the road to the barge. At the top of the gangplank he turned, scanning the crowd, and rubbed the jade beads about his wrist as if looking for comfort. Seeing Master Yang, he smiled. Then, tipping his head in acknowledgement, he stepped into the barge. Swallowed by the gloom, he disappeared.

  “Where is he going?” I whispered.

  “North,” said Master Yang.

  “And the knife?”

  “It goes with him.”

  On the deck of the barge, the sailors rushed to undo the ropes. They heaved the gangplank off the boat, unfolded the sails and slowly, the barge full of children moved away from the dock.

  “What will happen to him?”

  With empty eyes, Master Yang stared at the crowd. “He is brave, that one. Brave, and foolish.”

  “Foolish?”

  “Certainly he is foolish. He kept me alive, did he not? Better, much better to let me die.”

  The barge drifted into the middle of the stream. As the wind took her sails she moved faster, traveling with the current.

  “Where are they going?” I asked.

  “It is the Emperor. He has a need of bookkeepers, to count his taxes. Soldiers, laborers, scholars. Our sons are a tithe. Thus he bends us to his will. For who will rebel when he holds our children close?”

  Beside me, a woman wailed. I spoke across the noise. “These boys are hostages?”

  “Or slaves.”

  A second barge pulled away from the dock. Another took its place. We watched in silence until finally there were no more children and no more ships to carry them.

  “He takes all your children?”

  Master Yang shook his head. “Only the third son. Leaves the first for posterity, the second for fortune. But the third? Ah, the third he takes.”

  “Has it always been so?”

  He shook his head, impatient at my question. “Of course not. For who would bear a son, only to lose him? This is a new edict, issued last week.”

  “And no one defies this?”

  “Look at my face, child. I have no eyes. I was the lesson to the others. Better to lose one son than lose them all.”

  The crowd breathed out, a collective sigh of sorrow. Gradually, it began to disperse. No one spoke. There were no sidelong glances, no companionship. All kept their eyes on the ground. Some women could barely walk, so deep was their grief. The soldiers kept watch and when the streets where empty, they turned away.

  Master Yang and I left too. He staggered as he stepped, for the cobbles were uneven. I took his hand and led him to a seat.

  “Goodbye, my visitor,” he said. “I do not think I will see you again.”

  “Master Yang,” I asked, “where has the knife gone?”

  “To the dragon’s heart,” he whispered fiercely. “The boy, ah, he is brave. I will miss him.”

  I stirred, lifting from sleep. The world was dark, but Will slipped his arm around my waist and held me tight. Feeling his breath sighing in my ear, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. How wonderful to have company!

  * * *

  Will was still curled beside me in the morning. I blinked, looked around, trying not to wake him. We had found this cave late last evening. Half hidden by an overhang, once folk must have lived in this place, but now there was only a carved shelf and a hollowed storage space set into the wall filled with dried dung.

  Against me, Will stirred. “Good morning.”

  I smiled at him. “You smell of smoke.”

  “I know.” He nodded at the fire hearth, set beside the cave’s entrance. “Not much ventilation in a cave.”

  “I like it.” I leaned against him. He put an arm around me. Kissed me, long and slow. His mouth was warm, and oh, how good he felt. His hand moved lower and I arched into him.

  Outside the cave, a woman coughed. I sighed, moving my mouth away. There was always a chaperone.

  He sighed too. I touched his face in apology and smiled at him. Last night N’tombe had spoken of sailing across an empty sea, following a path. This made no sense. Who could follow a path across the water? But last night I had been exhausted; perhaps I had misheard her.

  “Tell me again how you found me?”

  “It wasn’t hard,” Will grinned. “We just followed the fires.”

  “Fires?”

  “Aye. First the ship at the dock. Then the Wayhouse. They were dowsing the flames when we passed by.”

  “The ship? Oh. The ship.” Light and smoke and fire. And oil. “Yes.”

  “You did that?”

  I nodded. “There was a flame. And oil. And I was angry.”

  “Ah. You were angry.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

  “So why are you smiling?”

  “I’m just thinking, I hope you don’t get angry at me.”

  I stood quickly, nearly banging my head on the low ceiling of the cave. “Do you know what it was like? I was locked up for three weeks. Three weeks! Kept in the dark, with no one to talk to. Hardly any food and a only a bucket of water. Don’t I have the right to be just a little bit angry?”

  “Hey, there,” Will pulled at my hand. Reluctantly, I sat back down beside him. “I’m only teasing.”

  I only realized I was crying when he rubbed my cheeks.

  “It’s all right, Princess.” He put his arms about me, pulled me tight against him. “You’re not alone anymore I’m here.”

  He pulled a dagger from its sheath above his ankle and handed it to me. “Take this. Does this help?”

  Through my tears I smiled. “Always so romantic.”

  He smiled, reached over and kissed me. “See. Knew that would make you feel better.”

  * * *

  We turned inland, leaving the road. We left the cart behind; its left front wheel had splintere
d in the fight, and the vehicle was of little use on rough ground so we unhitched the horses and roped the provisions into rough panniers across their backs. The animals were smaller than my father’s horses and their backs felt bony and hard, but they seemed calm enough, despite their lack of saddlery.

  We rode toward the mountains. TeSin knew the area, having traveled it before on some long-ago campaign. He thought we had a chance of losing the pursuers in the winding canyon ways of the hill country. There was a trail, TeSin said, a secret path that would take us to the sea without having to cross open country.

  “Why did you bring him with you?” I nodded at TeSin.

  “Seemed you wanted him. Besides, he’s useful as a guide.”

  “Me? Why should I want him? He attacked me, remember?” I remembered the dream of a sword striking my flesh and pain, dreadful pain, in my chest. Of a dragon, staring at me with unblinking eyes.

  “Well, you’re the one that saved his life,” said Will. “I don’t see why you’re upset that he’s here. TeSin?”

  The warrior turned.

  “You remember Dana?”

  TeSin nodded. “Of course. We … joined.” He pressed his hands against his side, as if an old wound was hurting him. “You save me.”

  “I did?” I remembered a forest. Dappled light falling through leaves; gold and green. Men, screaming as they fell. And another, lying in shadow. There had been so much death. “Yes,” I said, wonderingly. “I did.”

  TeSin bowed. “I thank you.”

  I couldn’t fathom TeSin’s presence. If I had been saved from certain death, I would head for home as fast as a flea. I wouldn’t have clung to my healer.

  Finally, we reached the mountains, just as the sun was setting. The rocks were gray and cold and at first we’d thought we’d have to sleep in the open. It was a relief when we’d found the cave.

  We continued on the next day. There were flies aplenty, landing on any exposed skin, so we wound coverings about our faces and looked like masked assassins from storybooks. We rode in single file. TeSin said little, signaling which route we should follow with a wave of the arm. I think he was reading secret signals, such as scratches on the rocks or the placement of stones, but he never showed them to us and we never asked him to explain. Sometimes I thought I felt an angry mind, searching. But perhaps it was just my imagination, and I was becoming paranoid. But N’tombe rode alert, and Will and TeSin scanned the ridges constantly.

  It felt strange to be traveling without Jed. Not that he had talked a lot; he seemed as self-sufficient as the sunrise. But his presence was … how to put it? Settling. When Jed slumped on his horse and put his hat forward over his eyes, you knew there was nothing to fear.

  Will had told me of Ma Evans and Jed. He said Jed had remained in Towyn as a surety against our return.

  “A hostage? You left him as a hostage?”

  “Well,” Will had blushed slightly. “Not quite. No. That’s not the words I’d use.”

  * * *

  We traveled for three days and nights, moving from one deserted village to another, following the route TeSin found for us. The canyon-ways were dry and barren, with only solitary bushes or low-growing herbs providing any relief. But the stone was beautiful; pink in the overhangs, orange in the sunlight, its color seemed to change with the shade and the height of the sun. Sometimes it almost appeared alive; as if, like a great animal, it was breathing slowly.

  We passed through narrow canyons, dark and still, into openings as wide as amphitheaters. There were signs people had once lived in these spaces: hidden springs of clear, cold water and houses, carved cave-like into the rock. Some cave facades were elaborate, with ornate doorways and decorative carvings of columns or vine leaves, but most were plain, just square holes. But elaborate or plain, all were empty. Except for the birds, there seemed to be nothing living in these dry gullies. The only sound, save our speech, was the cry of the vultures and the wind that blew across the cave mouths like a man blows air across a flute. The place seemed to sigh with loneliness. I had an uncomfortable feeling, passing along the track, that shades of the inhabitants remained and stared at us with resentful eyes.

  It was good to ride again; to have the feeling of the animal’s gait beneath me, to smell the scent of horses. And even better was to have company, for company meant protection in the dark and people to talk with. After so many weeks of being locked up on my own, ah, how welcome was this companionship!

  But in spite of the warmth and security, in some ways I felt I was still alone; that the others were behind a screen of glass. What had happened to me? When I had fought those magicians, I had felt myself growing, becoming more. But what had I become?

  Over this time the beads seemed quiet; they didn’t talk to me directly, and they didn’t enter my dreams. But I felt their watchfulness. Like me, they feared pursuit.

  Nights were the worst. Perhaps it was the haunted feeling of the valleys, or the constant fear. Maybe it was just the knowledge that I had a long path in front of me. I slept poorly, and when I did manage to fall asleep I dreamed.

  At night I saw stones falling, earth shaking. I dreamed of darkness and dusty sunlight. Once I saw my father standing in a wine cellar, staring down a dark tunnel. It was a relief to wake.

  I began to feel stunned from lack of sleep. Sometimes, my dreams were so intense they seemed more vivid than my waking hours. I felt uneasy, as though a dark threat, newly risen, was seeking me. What had happened to the magic workers? Some I had fought and destroyed, but in their black clothing they seemed much like insects. And insects were hard to kill. How had I managed to stay alive when there had been so many?

  “We should go faster,” I said.

  Pressing the horses, we sought to make as much speed as possible on these winding paths.

  * * *

  On the third morning the track widened so we could ride two abreast. I trotted beside N’tombe.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Back to the ship, Princess. Where else?”

  Of course. They had to return to pick up Jed. But I was supposed to go to Gusu and find the knife. Although how could I leave my friends again, when they’d worked so hard to find me?

  N’tombe looked at me. “What?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about the blind carver, because that would mean a whole raft of questions that I just did not want to answer just yet. The Guardians were…complicated. “Nothing.”

  We stopped to water the horses at a spring, displacing mice and startling a dreaming snake. Will watched it go, frowning. He was brooding about something.

  “It’s only a snake,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. It didn’t hurt you.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Look. I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I’ve been thinking about that ship. The one that brought you here. The one you …” He looked at me anxiously, as if concerned about my temper. “The one you, well, the one you burnt.”

  “What of it?”

  “It’s been seen before. Along the coastline, near to Towyn.”

  He told me of the fishing village where I’d been taken on board, a limp captive. I did not want to hear this. I didn’t want to think that I’d been carried like a sack of wheat over some man’s shoulder. I swallowed, stared up at the sky, where the birds wheeled, free.

  We trotted out of the clearing, into another gap in the rocks. TeSin seemed certain of the paths, but to me it was like a maze.

  “That ship,” I said slowly, “it’s explored the coastline nearby … what was the name of the village you stayed at?”

  “Towyn,” said Will. “Been trading on and off for nigh on five summers, Ma Evans said.”

  Something was not right here. “But…”

  He reined his horse back, looked at me.

  “Traders carry goods. But Will, the boat that took me was mostly empty. It was not a trading vessel.”

  “I do
n’t understand,” said Will. “If it’s not a trader, why else would it be there, along that coast?” He stopped. I could see his mind ticking like a merchant’s tally beads.

  At the front of our little caravan TeSin seemed to stiffen. He was listening, and listening hard.

  “He knows,” I said. “Ask him.”

  TeSin sighed.

  “Well?” Will stared at the warrior’s straight back. “What’s she saying?”

  TeSin wouldn’t answer, so I spoke for him. “That ship was a spy. Been traveling up and down the coastline for a few summers, you say? Well, now it knows all the harbors and shoals in the area.” The Emperor was immortal; he’d be in no hurry. He would take his time, study the land carefully before committing his forces. “That army we fought, the one we destroyed? I warrant that was only an expeditionary force. There will be another one coming, probably much larger.”

  What hope would Towyn have, would any land have, with that might arrayed against it?

  Will still looked uncertain. “If that’s true, we must warn them.”

  “You must,” I was suddenly certain of my route. “I must go elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere? What are you talking about?”

  “I have to find something,” I said. “I saw it in a dream.”

  TeSin turned. When I looked into his dark eyes I saw a line of villagers; a sword flaring bright in the morning sun; heads, piled beside the roadside.

  You can end it, whispered a dead woman. Behead the dragon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dreams in the Dark

  For the last few weeks, Will felt as if he’d been taking small breaths only, the tension building unfelt within. And then he’d seen Dana, alive and well and finally, finally, he could breathe once more.