The Scorched Earth

by Drew Karpyshyn

  That could be even worse, Scythe thought.

  “Well?” Jerrod demanded. “Is she an ally or a foe?”

  “I don’t know,” Norr admitted. “She is keeping her feelings hidden, at least until we reach the clan’s main camp.

  “When we get there I will confront her,” Norr promised. “I will tell her of Keegan’s importance; I will explain that he is the chosen savior of the mortal world and I will ask for her to help us.”

  “Maybe don’t just blurt it out like that,” Keegan cautioned. “It can be a lot for someone to take in all at once.”

  “Good advice,” Scythe concurred. “Maybe don’t say anything for a while. At least until we know if she’s on our side or not.”

  “How much longer until we get to the camp?” Jerrod asked.

  “Three or four days,” Norr said. “Depending on the pace Shalana chooses.”

  “No matter how tight I wrap your leg, you can’t handle three more days of marching,” Scythe warned him.

  Remembering how Jerrod had helped heal Norr’s wounds after they’d escaped Torian, she decided to swallow her pride.

  “Anything you can do?” she asked the monk.

  “Something about this land limits and restricts my abilities,” he reminded her. “I can try, but the results will be minimal.”

  “Don’t worry,” Vaaler assured them. “I’ve got a better solution.”

  Chapter 13

  THEY SET OUT early the next morning at Shalana’s command. The air was cold, but the wind had died and the sky above was a clear, cloudless blue.

  Perched atop the sled, Norr sat with his arms crossed and a petulant scowl etched on his face, glaring at the backs of the four Stone Spirit warriors tasked with dragging him along. When Vaaler had first suggested he ride while everyone else walked, he’d voiced his objection—traditionally only the very old, the very young, and the infirm rode in the sleds. But the others had supported the idea, especially Scythe, and he quickly realized it was better to submit than risk angering the fiery young woman. She was already upset with him for not telling her about Shalana.

  We’ve always said the past doesn’t matter, but that’s not really true. Especially not when my past jumps up and slaps her in the face.

  He’d been planning to tell Scythe everything, of course. But he just hadn’t found the right time to bring it up. Before they were taken by the Pack Masters, there hadn’t seemed to be any reason to dredge up his past relationship. And once they were in the Ice Fang camp, he was afraid telling her might upset her enough to do something rash that might jeopardize the exchange with the Stone Spirits.

  I could have told her while we were heading to the Stone Spirit camp if Shalana hadn’t blurted it out.

  Seeing her in the Stone Spirit delegation had caught him completely by surprise; clan chiefs rarely went out on such expeditions.

  But she decided to come and see me with her own eyes.

  He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It was possible she had forgiven him after all this time; she wasn’t a vindictive person.

  At least, she didn’t used to be. Who knows what happened to her after I left?

  Shalana had readily agreed to Vaaler’s suggestion that Norr ride on the sled.

  She didn’t just agree. She jumped at the idea.

  Shalana knew how humiliating it would be for him. She wanted to shame him. Punish him.

  Maybe I deserve a little punishment.

  He had abandoned her without a word, sneaking off in the night like a coward instead of meeting her in battle. At the time, he’d convinced himself that he had acted out of love—sacrificing his place in the clan to spare her the embarrassment of possibly losing to him in combat. Now, however, he knew that wasn’t the truth.

  Shalana and I were close friends, but I never really loved her. Not like I love Scythe.

  For years they had both known their betrothal was inevitable, but when it was officially announced he hadn’t felt any joy. Yet he never voiced his reservations for fear of upsetting Shalana and the thanes.

  Our engagement was founded on momentum and the expectations of the clan. After seeing us grow up together, everyone just assumed we would marry.

  He had no idea if Shalana had felt the same way or if she had cared for him more deeply than he cared for her.

  Instead of having the courage to ask her and find out, I chose to disappear. She has every right to be angry with me. She has every reason to want to shame me.

  If his embarrassment was the cost of winning Shalana’s cooperation, Norr was more than ready to pay. But what if this petty revenge wasn’t the only price? What if this was just the start of something much more? Something much darker?

  Shalana isn’t like that. Whatever ill will she bears me, she’s still a fair and decent person.

  But as much as he wanted to convince himself everything would work out, part of him couldn’t help but worry. He was assuming she was still the same woman he had grown up with.

  People change, he reminded himself. And not always for the better.

  After several hours, Shalana called for a brief rest stop. While most of the group were still fresh enough to press on, Jerrod could sense that the warriors pulling Norr’s sled were growing fatigued.

  As they were about to set off again, the monk caught Vaaler’s eye and nodded in the sled’s direction. Taking the unspoken cue, the Danaan joined him in taking a turn on the tow ropes, along with two fresh Stone Spirits.

  Grunting with exertion, Jerrod and the others struggled and strained against the ropes. The thin layer of ice and snow helped the sled glide smoothly over the ground, but it also made it difficult to find any traction. The first few steps were slow and difficult, but as the sled gathered momentum it became much easier to keep it moving. Even though Shalana set a brisk pace, Jerrod and the others were able to keep up, and they made better progress than they would have with Norr limping along on foot.

  Throughout it all, Norr sat atop the sled like a petulant child, not speaking but making his discomfort and displeasure obvious with his sour expression. Jerrod, however, cared little for what the big man thought about his current situation. He was far more interested in what the Stone Spirits thought about Norr.

  Shalana was difficult to read. Given their history, she probably harbored some bitterness toward him. But she hadn’t shown any outright hostility, and she had agreed to let Norr ride on the sled. Jerrod chose to take that as a good sign: had she wanted her former fiancé to truly suffer, she would have forced him to walk on his wounded knee.

  Maybe she’s forgiven him for what happened between them.

  The rest of the Stone Spirits didn’t seem to bear Norr any grudge, either. In fact, it seemed the opposite was true. Even though most of the Stone Spirit warriors with her were clearly too young to have ever fought at Norr’s side, several had been quick to volunteer to take turns helping pull his sled.

  He is well liked among his people. Even after being gone for years his reputation still inspires their loyalty. That could help win the Stone Spirits to our cause … unless Shalana sees this as a potential threat to her position.

  Unfortunately, there really was no way to know for sure until they reached the main camp.

  The journey was grueling but otherwise uneventful. During the day a steady rotation of men and women helped drag Norr along, and at night the Stone Spirits set up makeshift camps with impressive efficiency.

  Norr stayed with Keegan, Jerrod, and the others at night, but there was little talk among them. By the time the convoy stopped each day they were all too exhausted to do little more than collapse into a deep sleep, wrapped up in the blankets and bedding provided by Shalana’s people.

  Even with the relentless pace Shalana set, it still took them three days to reach the Stone Spirit settlement. When they did, Jerrod couldn’t help but be amazed at its size.

  Norr had told them the Stone Spirits were among the largest and most powerful of all the clans, but the monk h
ad assumed his words were born of partisanship and pride. But on seeing the hundreds of tents and dozens of single-story mud buildings stretching off for almost a mile into the distance, he realized the massive barbarian hadn’t been exaggerating.

  The Ice Fang clan had numbered around fifty human members. Of those, about thirty had appeared to be warriors; the rest either too young or too old to fight effectively. In contrast, Jerrod’s highly attuned senses estimated the Stone Spirit camp to house in excess of five hundred souls.

  The larger population would mean less urgency to conscript warriors—they could afford to have members of their society who focused on other skills. However, it was probably safe to assume they had at least two hundred members who would be able to take the field of battle.

  That doesn’t include the clans that pay them tribute, either, Jerrod reminded himself. They might be a lot smaller, but Norr said over a dozen chiefs paid the Stone Spirits tribute. If Shalana needed to raise an army, how many could she call on? A thousand? Two thousand? More?

  The Order had always been aware of the potential threat the Eastern savages represented, but their attention had primarily been focused on the Southlands, the Free Cities, and the mysterious, Chaos-blooded Danaan. Nobody had ever attempted to get an accurate count of the clans; the assumption had always been that the nomadic tribes were too few to ever represent any real danger.

  How many other clans wield the same kind of influence as the Stone Spirits? Jerrod wondered. If they united against the Southlands, would the Order be able to raise an army large enough to keep them at bay?

  Based on the most recent census, taken shortly after the Purge almost twenty years ago, each of the Seven Capitals had populations approaching or exceeding fifty thousand. It was safe to assume there were at least that many more subjects in the smaller cities, villages, and hamlets under their jurisdiction. But most of those were untrained, unarmed civilians: actual soldiers made up only a fraction of the population.

  The Order had always feared a Danaan invasion: an army supported by Chaos mages emerging from the North Forest. Seeing the Stone Spirit village in all its glory made Jerrod realize that their inherent fear of a kingdom built on Chaos magic had blinded them to the nomadic empire lurking in the Frozen East.

  As they drew closer to the makeshift village, people came rushing out to meet them. Men, women, and children poured out in a wave, clapping and cheering as the delegation, with Shalana at its head, marched into the center of the city. A number of dogs came with them, but these were not the deadly trained killers of the Ice Fang packs; rather, they were the random assortment of pet mutts and curs one would expect to find in the streets of any small Southern settlement.

  At first, Jerrod assumed the crowd was coming to pay homage to the return of their chief. He didn’t understand Clan-speak, but amid the cacophony of shouts and chants he could clearly hear Shalana’s name rising up. But as he listened more closely, he also heard Norr’s name being called out. The language barrier made it foolish to assume context, but given the festive atmosphere it almost seemed as if the crowd was welcoming back a long-lost hero.

  Unfortunately, there was no way to predict whether Norr’s popularity would win his people over to their cause or compel Shalana to see him as a threat to her authority.

  Vaaler’s command of Verlsung wasn’t perfect; he’d had little chance to practice what his tutors had taught him in the real world. The shouts and cheers of the crowd overlapped and ran into each other, making it difficult to pick out what was being said. Shalana’s name was being called out, as was Norr’s. Most everything else was lost in the rumble of the crowd. But there were two words he was able to pick out, being said over and over: red bear.

  Are they talking about Norr?

  It would certainly fit, given his size and the color of his hair and great, bushy beard.

  He said he’s been gone for five years. How popular was he before he left?

  The Eastern culture valued strength and prowess in battle. It wasn’t hard to imagine a giant like Norr becoming a legendary warrior. One who had earned the nickname of the Red Bear and won the hearts and minds of his people.

  Norr’s account of how he had left his people made it seem like he’d deserted them; slinking away in the night to avoid a duel with Shalana. If anything, he should be reviled as a coward. In his own eyes, he wasn’t a warrior anymore: he didn’t even deserve to carry a weapon.

  Clearly the people who’d come out to welcome them didn’t share that opinion. As they entered the village itself, the crowd swarmed them. Men and women fell on Norr: shaking his hand, patting him on the shoulder, embracing him in firm, quick hugs.

  Realizing it was pointless to try to keep the sled moving in the throng, Vaaler let the tow rope drop and stepped back from the crowd. Jerrod and the warriors who had been helping pull Norr along did the same. Two large, middle-aged men reached down to help Norr up, each grabbing ahold of one meaty wrist and hauling him to his feet.

  The big man was smiling and laughing with his old friends in a joyous reunion. Watching him, Vaaler couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous as he remembered his own homecoming after his years studying under Rexol. The citizens hadn’t lined the streets of Ferlhame to welcome him; instead, he’d been greeted by an honor guard and a handful of his mother’s most trusted advisers. Drake and his mother had been the only ones genuinely pleased to see him; the others were stoic and glum. He was supposed to return as a great wizard, but word had already spread of his failure to learn the mage’s art.

  He noticed Scythe and Keegan standing apart from the crowd as well, watching with a bemused expression. Like him, they were clearly taken aback by Norr’s popularity. But Jerrod, still standing close to Vaaler’s side, wasn’t watching Norr. Following his blind gaze, he realized the monk was studying Shalana.

  Unlike the rest of the crowd, she wasn’t laughing or smiling. Her features were frozen, carefully set in a reserved, neutral mask to keep from betraying her emotions. But her body was tense, her shoulders back, her head moving slowly from side to side as she took in her people’s reaction. Her left hand clenched tightly around the shaft of her spear, the long, lean muscles of her arm taut and firm.

  She wasn’t expecting this, Vaaler realized, and a picture began to paint itself.

  From his account, it was clear Norr had assumed Shalana had always been the natural successor to Terramon. But maybe that wasn’t the case. Norr was humble and modest; even if others saw him as a potential clan chief, he wouldn’t have thought of himself that way. Yet it wasn’t hard to imagine. He’d been the clan’s greatest warrior—the legendary Red Bear—and the son of a well-respected thane.

  The people wanted him all along. They were certain Terramon would name Norr as the next chief, and Terramon probably knew it. It was only Norr and Shalana, blinded by their feelings for each other, who were surprised.

  When Norr vanished without warning or explanation on the eve of his duel with Shalana, it would have led to rumors and speculation. Some would condemn Norr as a coward, but others would wonder if Terramon had driven the clan’s greatest warrior away so his own daughter could become chief. And if Shalana’s reign was troubled or difficult for any reason, it would be inevitable for at least some of her people to imagine things would have been better under Norr.

  Their resentment of Shalana had probably simmered quietly below the surface, whispers and secrets that never reached her ears. In her eyes Norr had acted like a coward and abandoned his people. She probably thought she was being merciful and magnanimous by agreeing to the Ice Fang ransom. She probably imagined she was bringing home a fallen, broken hero, a man who would have to work long and hard to redeem himself in the eyes of the clan.

  In the face of Norr’s triumphant return it would be impossible to keep clinging to that illusion.

  “Enough!” Shalana suddenly called out, her voice rising above the crowd as she brandished her spear above her head.

  Everyone fell silent, all
eyes turning to their chief.

  “The thanes are waiting for us in the great hall,” Shalana said, directing her words to Norr. “We must decide the fate of you and your Outlander friends.”

  Clever, Vaaler thought. Remind everyone that he has allied himself with those outside the clan.

  “There will be time for catching up later,” she added in a softer tone. “But we will do it right. A proper feast to honor the return of the Red Bear.”

  Another smart move. Don’t paint yourself as the villain.

  “What’s happening?” Scythe asked, coming over to Norr as the mollified crowd slowly dispersed.

  “Shalana is taking us to meet with the thanes,” he answered, speaking loud enough for Keegan, Jerrod, and Vaaler to hear.

  “Right now?” Scythe protested. “We don’t even get a chance to rest or eat?”

  “We go now,” Shalana told her in Allrish.

  The two Stone Spirit warriors who had helped pull Norr on the sled bent down to grab the tow ropes, but the big man shook his head.

  “I’ve rested long enough. I can walk to meet the Thanes without help.”

  With Shalana at the head, they were escorted through the camp by a half dozen warriors to a long, narrow, low-roofed building made from mud and stone.

  I guess once a clan becomes as big and powerful as the Stone Spirits, they don’t have to be nomads anymore, Vaaler thought.

  They approached the building from the broad side, where a single door stood in the middle of the wall. Shalana pulled it open and went in first. The rest of their escort stepped aside, indicating for Norr and his companions to follow. The big man had to duck to get through the entrance, but inside, the ceiling was just tall enough for him to stand upright.

  Is that coincidence, Vaaler wondered as he and the others shuffled in, or did they build this tall enough for the Red Bear to stand up in on purpose?