by H. L. Burke
The remains of a paved road twined like a gray snake across the blackened landscape. Toppled ruins leaned along either side of it, a large city’s worth, now deprived of citizens and name. She kept her eyes ahead.
How futile the works of men when caught between the quarrels of gods.
The foolish residents of this place didn’t have the protection of the Earthen Lords. The Fire Folks’ wrath had consumed them utterly. Now the Earth reclaimed the land. Wooden buildings crumbled into heaps, covered in green grass.
“Earth is a patient force,” she said. “The fires raged only to die, and the Earth takes back its own.”
Before her a stream cut through the road, pushing aside stone bricks as if they were dried leaves. It twisted through the earth on either side of the road. The group picked their way over it.
“Look, Arana.” Daman stopped and pointed. In the mud between the stones lay a fresh footprint.
“What does it matter?” Markyl shrugged. “We’re far from the Sanctuary. This land is not holy. Let others defile it.”
“Why would anyone be here, though?” Daman frowned. “This is no trader’s route.”
Arana fingered her knife’s hilt. “It would serve us well to know why. If we see them, we will question them. If not, let them disappear into the Waste. They will find only death there.”
The ruins gave way to what had once been fields of grain. Even after decades of abandonment, Arana could mark the furrows and irrigation ditches. Grass grew here, knee high, and deer grazed along the road. They glanced up when Arana and her men passed, but did not flee.
Probably never seen human hunters. If the land is restored, people will return. So close to the holy mountain, that could be problematic.
Perhaps they could salt the fields and poison the herds.
They crested a hill. The treeless expanse of the Waste gave way to thick, broadleaf forests, less than a quarter mile from them. The road disappeared into the trees … and upon it, nearing the end of the Waste, two men traveled.
“They’re heading west.” Arvid drew his knife. “Like we are.”
“I don’t particularly want company on this trip.” Daman crossed his arms.
“There’s nothing to the west though,” Markyl said. “No settlements to trade with. They can’t truly be headed that way.”
“Only one way to find out.” Arana jerked her head towards the forest. “Let us overtake them.”
Markyl wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Arana swallowed her displeasure. In spite of his skill, Markyl still showed a distaste for killing. She would have to train the hesitancy out of him if he were to remain useful.
It didn’t take long for the travelers to mark their approach. Their pace sped up, not quite running, but definitely faster than it had been.
Arana and her boys gained steadily on the two men. When the distance between closed to less than a stone’s throw, the men pulled aside and stood at the edge of the road, as if waiting for Arana’s group to pass.
Arana approached first, holding up her hand for her companions to stay back. As a woman, she would be less likely to spook the other travelers. One of the men’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she came to stand before them. How different they would’ve felt if they knew her true power.
She smiled. “This is an unusual place to find travelers. Are you perhaps lost?”
“No, not lost. I could ask the same of you.” The older of the two men raised his eyebrows. He was perhaps thirty, his thin, brown hair revealing a sunburnt scalp. The other man had similar coloring and an identical, narrow nose … not young enough to be the first’s son, but possibly related, a brother, maybe?
“The hunting is good here, few people to share the game with.” She cast her eyes to the men’s clothing, dyed green and well-tailored, more like the garb of merchants than the farmers and hunters of the Mountain’s Feet. “You don’t look like hunters.”
“Neither do you,” the younger man said. “No bows. Do you chase the deer down and knife them?”
Arana’s mouth twisted. “Perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”
“We don’t want any trouble.” The older man stepped between her and the younger. “Jaren tends to speak before he thinks. What you are doing is your business, and what we are doing is ours.” His eyes narrowed.
“You don’t trust them. Why don’t you trust them?” The Earthen Lord whispered in Arana’s head. She gestured to Daman. He came to stand before her. The ground purred beneath her feet, a gentle vibration, too weak to stir a pebble, but strong enough to ripple through Arana’s skin and bone.
They are hiding something. It matters not what. If they mean to continue along the same path, it is too great a risk to allow them to live.
She placed her hand behind her back and held out three fingers. Bringing the first finger down, she began a mental count.
Three.
Arvid and Markyl moved closer. The two strangers stood straighter. Arana’s second finger dropped.
Two.
The earth’s pulse strengthened. The younger man wobbled on his feet. He grabbed his companion’s arm. Arana’s final finger joined her fist.
One.
“Look out!” The older man yelped. He pushed his friend aside as the ground beneath them split. Arvid’s knife sank into the older man's arm.
Arana cursed. She concentrated on the ground. The crack in the earth grew, pushing the two men further apart.
The younger man threw his hands to the sky. A blast of cold liquid hit Arana in the face. She fell back against Markyl’s chest, drenched.
A column of water swirled through the air. It wrapped around Arvid. His brawny arms flailed, but the liquid hardened about him into ice. His face froze in a look of terror.
“By the Bones!” Daman snarled. He stomped his foot, and the ground rippled. The young man lost his footing and fell backward into Arana’s chasm, now a good five feet deep. Another stamp and the ground closed up above his head.
“Jaren!” The second man scrambled forward, clawing at the earth. Arana kicked him away.
“It is too late. Your friend is crushed.”
“Demon!” He charged at her, but Daman stepped in the way. He tossed the man back to the earth, where he lay, weeping.
Markyl pounded his fists against Arvid’s frozen tomb. Daman pushed Markyl aside. His hands hardened, turning gray as stone as he drew the strength of the Earth to him. With one blow, he cracked the ice apart. Arvid fell to the ground. His eyes stared at the sky, his skin tinted blue.
“It’s too late.” Arana shook her head. “That … man had a Water Speaker’s power.” She turned on their captive. “You are trying to find the Evermirror?”
“The voices were calling him … I … I said I’d protect him on his journey. He wouldn’t hurt you, or anyone! He just wanted to follow the voices, you she-goat!” He gritted his teeth.
“That is all I needed to know.” She nodded to Markyl. “You can make his death quick. We’re done here.”
“I would like the pleasure.” Daman stepped away from his cousin’s corpse, fists clenched.
Arana grasped his shoulder and shook her head. “Markyl needs the practice.”
***
Quill put her hand over her eyes and stared out over the bleak landscape. Up close it wasn’t so dreary. The grasses and shrubs had reclaimed the land, carpeting the scorched black earth. Shocks of orange and lavender wildflowers sprang out of the rocks, attracting insects and even the occasional, yellow-winged butterfly.
Trees had yet to replace their burnt forefathers, and from a distance the terrain appeared flat and lifeless, a dull muddy color where the grasses and rocks blended together.
Gabrin sat cross-legged by her feet, staring down at his map. He picked up his compass, flipped it open, and then shut it again.
“That way’s west.” Quill pointed. “Why do you keep checking that thing when you know as well as I do that the sun goes from east to west, therefore that …” she raised
her finger to the fiery orb about midway through its descent, “...is west.”
He shrugged and polished the compass on his shirt. “Habit, I guess. Second-guessing myself. Besides, if it grows cloudy, I won’t have the sun. Best to make sure my compass still points me north.” He smiled and rose. “We’re further along than I thought we’d be by now.”
Footsteps crackled in the dry grass behind them. Quill turned to see Eanan trudging up the hill, holding a rabbit by the ears. “I found us some dinner. There’s a large warren just a ways from here. The critters practically jumped in my lap, curious and innocent as babes. Could’ve easily taken more, but I didn’t have the heart.” He grinned. “I caught it. Who wants to skin it?”
“Let’s save it for tonight. We still have several hours of daylight left. If we press on, I think we can find the Great Highway today.” Gabrin tucked the map into his pack. “We need to adjust our heading.”
“Further west again?” Quill smiled.
“Southwest.” He dangled his compass in front of her face. “Or would you prefer to navigate by the sun and tree moss?”
She batted the compass away. “Just when you’re starting to be tolerable, you go and ruin it.”
He laughed. “It’s a gift.”
Eanan rested his hand between her shoulder blades. “Enough pecking at each other, you two. Let’s go.”
Quill searched for footholds to slow her pace as they started down the hill. The compass still glinted in Gabrin’s hand. She remembered the way it had felt, touching the icestone lining. She hadn’t heard the voices since they’d left the river. Her dreams carried the burble of streams, but no words. Perhaps things were getting better, but part of her longed to snatch the compass from Gabrin’s hands and run her fingers over the cold, blue stone. She imagined the sensation, creeping up her arm into her mind, like hands of mist. It would join with her soul, flow out of her, healing everything it touched.
But what if it consumes me? Pulls me under and holds my spirit captive? Like Meghil ...
Meghil … she remembered him, struck down by the Fire within him, sweating, shaking, eyes glowing yellow as if he’d swallowed the sun. So much pain, just to regain control of his own being … and even then, he’d died. Perhaps not from the fire, but alone.
I couldn’t save him. What if no one can save me?
They reached the valley between the hills. A small stream crossed through it, and they continued their walk at its side.
“This looks clean,” Gabrin commented. “Our concerns about drinkable water were unfounded.”
The stream was only about a foot deep and clear. Rocks lay beneath, but not very many plants and no fish that she could see. “I think this is mountain runoff. If it's this shallow now, it’ll be dry long before mid-summer. Most likely it doesn’t reach far into the Wastes.”
Ahead, the valley broadened, and the stream melded with a larger creek. This one frolicked noisily over rocks.
“Child hear … hear us …”
Quill flinched. “Perhaps we should move to the hilltops. The view’s better from there.”
Eanan shook his head. “This is easier. My calves are already crying without another uphill climb.” He pushed ahead.
Gabrin slowed his pace and dropped back to walk beside her. “You all right?”
She nodded, keeping her mouth clamped shut.
He glanced from her to the water. “Look, I don’t know how this Water Speaker thing works, but if it is too much for you to handle, let me know. I may not be able to stop it, but if you look to be losing control, I can get your grandfather away so that you don’t harm him or me. That’s your worry, isn’t it?”
Her head bobbed up and down and her lower lip shook. “Yes.”
“Sorry I can’t offer more.” He squeezed her shoulder, his usually twinkling eyes sober and kind.
“It’s enough,” she whispered.
He smiled and quickened his pace.
She exhaled. Gabrin’s offer should have frightened her, but the idea of harming another haunted her far more than the thought of being alone. At least my family won’t have to see me if the Elementals do take over … and I won’t hurt them.
“Ah ha!” Eanan shouted. Gabrin ran to him. The older man pointed ahead. “That’s it! That’s the Highway.”
Ahead the creek pushed its way through a boundary of stone. Quill craned her neck, first to the east, then to the west. The Highway stretched on over the horizon in both directions, laid out like a strip of cloth over the hills.
As they approached, what had appeared to be a single gray slab turned out to be divided into thousands of rectangular blocks, each stacked beside the other, completely flat, so unlike the bumpy stone walls she was used to.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Gabrin raised his eyebrows. “You’re easily impressed.”
She flushed.
“Being jaded is no virtue, Gabrin.” Eanan chuckled. “It is a marvel. Imagine how many men it took to set these stones, each perfectly in place. We should honor their achievement.”
Gabrin snorted. “Considering they’ve been dead for a few centuries, I don’t think they care.”
The bricks felt strange underfoot, unyielding and level, as if she stood atop a planed surface. Every so often a weed pushed its way through a crack, or a brick lay shattered. Scorch marks tainted the edges, but the middle had been washed clean by years of rain.
She imagined what it would’ve looked like during the days of burning, when fires raged through this valley: this river of stone, surrounded by a landscape of flame and ash. Something churned within her, like bubbles rising within a tea kettle.
Their footsteps tapped along the Highway. The ground rose, and the road rose with it. Soon they stood atop a hill, staring out over one last expanse of Waste before a great forest. The trees beckoned to her.
“Come on! We can make the forest by tonight!” She broke into a run, but Eanan grabbed her arm.
“What’s that?” He pointed to the base of the hill. Two bundles lay, side by side. One was dark brown, almost blending in with earth, but the other was an unnatural green, more vivid than grass.
Gabrin unshouldered his pack and dug out a spyglass. He held it up, one eye closed, then dropped it. He swallowed. “Quill, I think you should wait here.”
“What is it?” She rubbed her arms.
“I’m not totally sure. Here.” He passed Eanan the spyglass.
Eanan directed it first at the bundles then did a slow sweep from north to south. “I don’t see any other folk. We’d be able to spy them from here. The ground is too flat to hide.”
“In the forest, though?” Gabrin reached into his pack and withdrew something Quill hadn’t seen before: a short blade in a leather sheath.
She blanched. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
“Bodies. Two of them.” Eanan returned Gabrin’s spyglass.
Quill’s throat constricted. “Human?”
“Could be a couple of goats playing dress-up, but yeah, most likely human,” Gabrin said.
Quill’s face burned, and she scowled at him. “I have seen bodies before. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”
“I’m sure you have … however, you can’t fight.” Eanan rubbed his hands together. “I think it’s clear. We’ll just have to watch our backs. If bandits are in this area, we’d make easy targets.”
They started forward, their pace slower now.
When they reached the corpses, Quill hesitated. Yes, she’d seen bodies before, even the corpses of those close to her, but the visionless eyes staring into the clouds still chilled her. Someone had draped a cloak over the one clad in brown, but the one in green was left exposed to the elements, a gaping red wound in his throat. Her stomach heaved.
Eanan gripped her arm. “They haven’t been here long. No sign of scavenging. Whoever did this isn’t far ahead.”
Gabrin pulled the cloak from the second body. Quill flinched and turned away.
“No open wounds on this one. He kind of looks …” Gabrin stopped and cleared his throat.
Quill hazarded an eye open. The corpse had a blue tinge to his lips and skin, but his eyes were closed, and Gabrin was right, there was no sign of blood.
“What?” she asked.
Gabrin blew upwards, pushing a loose lock of golden hair out of his eyes. “It’s impossible out here, but anywhere else, and I’d say this man drowned. I saw more than my share of floaters in my time as a navigator.” He pulled the cloak back over the dead man. “Maybe he was smothered.” He shook his head. “Let’s move on before whoever did this comes back.”
Quill flinched. “We can’t just leave them like this!”
“Do you happen to have a shovel? Rocks for a cairn?” Gabrin raised his eyebrows. “Unless you want to scratch out a grave with your bare hands, what other choice do we have?”
Prickles scratched at her throat, and her eyes watered. “But … but they’re people.”
Eanan touched her arm. “Quill, he’s right. Even if we had the tools, we lack the time. Whoever did this could return, and I won’t risk your life for the sake of two dead men.”
“But …” She choked.
He wiped her tears with his shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry, little one, but we have to move on. The earth will take them.”
Eanan's tone disarmed her. He sounded almost fatherly, like a grandfather should, for once.
“We can at least say a prayer and give a water offering?” She reached for her canteen.
“I suppose we can take that time.” He stepped away. “Gabrin, while she does the rites, let’s make sure the area is safe. Someone could be lying in wait along the road.”
Quill poured water over the men, trying not to look at the wound on one or the strange pallor of the other’s skin. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the words of the prayer.
“May the earth take our bodies, the Creator our souls, may our memories remain in the hearts of our loved ones, may life continue, even as we end.” She opened her eyes. The cloth over the man in brown made him seem less exposed, less helpless. Digging in her pack, she found her spare cloak and laid it over the body of the man in green. The water from her offering pooled on the ground and trickled towards her feet. She stepped back, but not before it had wet her toes.