Crimson Valley

by Hausladen, Blake;

  Everyone was gapping at me.

  “What was that, my king?” Nace asked, while I collected concerned looks from all around.

  “Chaumari, he said,” Kuren whispered.

  “Oh, Barok,” Fana said. “What a wonderful name for them.”

  “It is not. We have murdered our friends and made them into weapons. They do not seem free to me. They are akin to Hessier.”

  “‘Bind’ is not the verb of the song that made them,” Fana said. “It is one of the words I took from Sikhek. ‘Marry’ is the verb of this magic, and it can only work upon the willing. Their lives and memories are not erased as with Hessier.”

  “That does not make them any less dead. I should not have said the word out loud. I despise it and do not want to hear it again.”

  The sound of the hissing flames grew louder and Leger and Gern came into view around the back of the carriage. They were flaming-eyed devils in Chaukai armor old and new, yet they peered around at us as if embarrassed by the pain their existence was causing me.

  I was not prepared for this black comedy. I growled to suppress tears and looked for a way through the crowd.

  Nace paced along and took my arm. “Perhaps we should return to discuss our plans? Errati and the rest should be sailing in any time now.”

  His words felt foreign—what plans? I stumbled along with him up into the fortress and through to a windowed study overlooking the harbor. Ships of all kinds were at anchor offloading the armies of our northern allies. A great ship was among them, fresh arrived. Its deck was lined with heavy chests.

  Nace handed me a cup of mate. I sipped it while the mundane details began to bang on me harder than the terrors of our magic.

  “Our plans,” I said and spilled some of the mate as I turned.

  Everything I was about to ask for was already laid out upon the room’s broad tables.

  “The road agents are assembled?” I asked as I caught up.

  “I interviewed them all yesterday. They know their destinations and the names of every man they are to find. All we are waiting on is the chests of coin and your go ahead.”

  I studied the maps and names. Nace looked unsure and pointed me at a mirror. I looked bad. Black eyes, matted hair, and clothes I could not recall putting on. The grizzly thing in the mirror reminded me of the way Leger looked the day Sikhek put him upon my carriage beneath the Deyalu.

  “Errati had worried what would become of you after so many days unattended upon the long road.”

  “I was mumbling to myself when I got out of the carriage.”

  “You did make an impression. The generals were terrified. The rest love you too much to judge.”

  “Help me find a bath before Errati gets up here? I’ll never live this down.”

  “Too late,” Errati said from behind us. “Fear not. Erom alerted me to your state. A bath is being drawn. Follow me and we’ll discuss matters while you sort yourself out.”

  I was being managed again, and the constancy of the need for it was galling.

  “Entirely my fault,” Errati said. “You can dismiss me later. Please get moving, my King. You’ll want to see the treasury agents off.”

  He was right about that, and the inspiration of our plans drove me beyond my shame. Three cups’ worth of Errati’s handling later and I strode out onto the sweeping battlement that overlooked the town and harbor.

  Soul-irons in groups of two and three stood watch in town and upon the walls of the fortress. Organized below were the sixty-three men and horse that would carry out of my most daring plan yet. I could scarcely hold all the details in my head at once. The riders looked ready and in no need or encouragement. Each looked the part of a sniveling tax collector—the road agents of the fallen treasury.

  “Remember, sirs, for generations the noblemen of the Kaaryon feared men like you. You are hated, and they are not expecting you. Who sent you?”

  “Alsonelm,” They replied.

  “What will you accept for payment of the back taxes everyone owes?”

  “Silver only.”

  “Go then, sirs, and remember to drop your coin if someone tries to kill you. They’ll want the silver more than your life.”

  They saluted me and started away. I wished more than anything to ride out with them and be there as they sowed the seeds of our grand stroke.

  “Do you remember the day, Nace, when you first had the idea beneath the silver stairs?”

  “Like it was this morning.”

  I laughed and shook his hand. “Farewell then, sir. Rahan and I would give anything to trade places with you.”

  “No deal,” he said, shook Errati’s hand, and made his way down.

  Leger joined us as we watched them melt into the city’s traffic on their way south and east.

  “You’ve not shared much of this plan with us. That grin has me curious. Spill.”

  “No. It’s better than conjuring an orchard or brigade of cavalry from thin air, and that is all I will say.”

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “No, Not today.”

  “How long are we delaying the march south for them?”

  “Three days. Long enough for them to set the trap. Have the army ready for a force march. We’ll want to make up the ground.”

  “We should move on to Alsonvale now before they assemble the Kaaryon’s levies.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about the levies much.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’ve not changed, Barok.”

  “Neither have you, I’ve been told,” I said, and coughed as a bit as a waft of his ash was dashed into my face by the sea breeze.

  “Serves you right,” he said, and the soul-irons in earshot chuckled. The sight sat wrong in my guts.

  Leger saw me trembling. “I would hug you if I could.”

  I choked, half weeping.

  Errati put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not a hugger, sorry.”

  “Gah, blast you both. Come, I can fake being sane the rest of the day at least. Let’s find a spot where you won’t start things on fire and get the men sorted.”

  “Three days of drills? The entire army? The provincials will hate it.”

  “I know. I’ll let you give the order.”

  The rumble of flames I got in response sounded angry but close enough to laughter. It was sure to be a grand day.

  On our way down to a wide field, warmed by the returning sun, I was nearly content when a sad voice called my name. It was Lady Jayme, and I waved her trough the ring of Chaukai.

  She bowed her head to hide her wet eyes. “We do too much.”

  “I know,” I said. “But all would be lost without it. We have wrapped ourselves in a culture of sacrifice that will see no good end. Can I count on you to tell me another way forward if you think of one?”

  She nodded, and then hesitated. I waved her to continue.

  “My son, Barok. Is there any word from the Priests’ Home?”

  She knew the answer. We all did. She was feeling the same madness that spun my mind in ugly circles.

  “His name is Burhn?” I asked.

  “They took him before he knew me.”

  “He will love you still,” I said.

  She clutched me and I her as we wet each others’ shoulders. “We’ll get them back,” I said.

  The blue glow I’d seen so many times began to crackle upon her skin.

  “What is that?” I whispered.

  “It is the flipside of the Shadow’s effect upon the soul. Mothers burn blue with Her sadness. It will get hot enough to kill us before too long. Her kindnesses are as cruel as the Shadow’s malice.”

  I could say nothing in reply. She kissed my cheek and left me to my grand day.

  57

  Dia Vesteal

  Harmond

  Not everyone who fled Verd was ready for the cold. It set in as we got out into the middle of the immense lake and beyond the warmth of the spring feed river. W
e had to stop and gather the boats together to share around what extra clothing had been brought. Those not at the oars huddled together in the center of the broad boats, and Harmond got them working rotations through the cold pegs of that dark night.

  I fell asleep to the smell of caribou oil lanterns, and we were close to needing to light them again the next evening when we reached a shore of towering pines. Harmond guided us a river and a small village crammed around a single boat landing. The stench of caribou oil was replaced with smoked fish, and I enjoyed a skewer of kabobs while we made camp in the trees behind the village. Each boat was leaned against a pair of trees, and families huddled under them as the dark gray sky threatened rain with long rumbles. Harmond and Ghemma were the only ones watching the clouds. The rest looked back the way we’d come toward the homes they might never see again.

  Clea liked the quiet and the dark beneath our boat. The rest of those who’d shared it got to work building a fire. I napped with my happy girl resting upon my belly until her brother started kicking her.

  “Be nice,” I said.

  “Sorry?” Harmond said and stepped into view. No one else was around.

  “Not you,” I replied and pointed at my belly. “I didn’t hear you approach. Is all well? Where is everyone?”

  “Can we speak with you? The group ... we have some questions. There is someone here you may know.”

  I had to lean forward to get a look at them a distance back in the trees. All those who could sing were there, with a noticeable addition. The man had his back to us, but I know him by the shag of his hair and the heavy sealskin coat he wore.

  Burhn.

  “Help me up,” I said, and Harmond obliged with a strong hand. He had hold of his club. The expressions of the group betrayed the same threat. Burhn’s tales of me, whatever he’d said, would be different than what they’d heard from me.

  The group collected around the small fire before the boat.

  “Hello, Burhn,” I said.

  “Dia,” was all he had in reply.

  Harmond said to me, “You can start with your name.”

  I gave them the truth and told them everything. One after another, they sat down as I told my tale. The ears of every Chaukai must have been burning, but I did not care. I had been alone too long. These refugees had worn my daughter’s blood, and I did not have the strength for clever half-truths.

  The Mother Yew in the forests of Enhedu, the Song of the Earth, our war against the agents of the Shadow. I told them everything, including Burhn’s role in things. He did not contradict me.

  The sat in silence around the fire, some with wet eyes, others looking sick.

  “What do you intend, Dia?” Ghemma asked.

  “I mean to get as many people away from Geart and his Hessier as I can and make my way north to Enhedu with any who would go with me, including you, Burhn, if you would join me.”

  He nodded and the rest answered with their silence.

  The telling had me trembling. We sat around the fire and watched it burn. No one said a word.

  When the fire was low I summoned the courage to ask my own questions.

  My voice was very small when I said, “I would be in your debt if you could tell me what you know of the Enhedu and my husband. When last I saw him, he was bound for Bessradi for the Autumn meeting of the Council of Lords. I have heard nothing of the world since.”

  “Oh, dear me,” Ghemma said, crossed to take hold of my hands, and told me in a mad rush how Lord Vall had died, and how Prince Rahan had emerged from under Barok’s wing to claim the throne and start a civil war that split the capital in two. Barok had escaped the city and was rumored to be raising an army of northerners to come to Rahan’s aid. The rest of Zoviya was tearing itself apart, including Berm. The Lira Valley and the Yentif there were already moving north to oppose Rahan, and the Hemari would be coming south in the spring to press the lake people into Yarik’s service.

  The rest reacted to most of this as though it was as news to them as well and they gave her long sideways looks.

  She folded her arms at them. “What? I’m from Dagoda. It’s not my fault if my idiot husband left his correspondence where I could read it.”

  “It’s all true,” Burhn said, which multiplied their frowns and made Ghemma smile.

  My many humors and worries were held back for a long moment as the memory of a man’s smiling face and his arrogant wink.

  Selt. Damn him. A Yentif prince all along. I would kiss him as soon as I finish strangling him.

  They began to question her and Burhn about what else they knew about Berm’s business, but she was quick to deflect by turning to me.

  “The Hessier that came for us, Geart I think you said his name was, he killed Aden?”

  “Yes, and we must get away from him. We must get to Bessradi,” I said. “Rahan and Barok must be warned that he is coming.”

  “What is so different about him?”

  I opened my daughter’s wrap and showed them her missing arm. “It’s not what is different. It’s what he has. The bone and blood of her family is what they use the make the Hessier and the Ashmari. Geart’s magic is very strong and there is no telling what he can do with that small piece of her. He is coming for her and will not stop.”

  They looked to Burhn. He could only nod.

  “We must warn the lake people,” Harmond said.

  The rest began to talk all at once. “How many could we take north with us?” someone asked.

  “I have family here,” another said.

  “We will take as many as we can,” I said. “Starting with this village. Harmond, can you convince them to flee their homes?”

  “Berm is our home,” he said. “We go where we need.”

  He started across, and I was relieved that I did not need to speak to the villagers. I didn’t have the stomach for any more speeches or questions.

  It happened quickly. He knew his fellows well. The town gathered what it could, and we started west in the morning with every soul. They had no horses and walked at the pace of the eight-man teams that carried the upturned flatboats. They talked little.

  Some took trails north and south—people with family in other villages upon other lakes. The tumble of low hills swallowed them up, and the route we found through the snowy pines made me long for Enhedu. The sound of us was swallowed up by the thick forest, and for a moment I was back in Enhedu upon my great horse with nothing and no one who could trouble us.

  We camped that night upon a ridge that overlooked another small lake, and I’d not felt so safe since I’d slept in Urnedi. Every tumble of low hills, each gully, grotto, and dell would confound whatever witless Hessier Geart sent after us.

  After more of the boats broke off the next morning, our numbers fell to around 700 souls. It snowed overnight, but it was hard to be discouraged. We were halfway to Pashwarmuth and the tithe road that ran from there to Bessradi was sure to be an easy road.

  The pond we crossed the next day was hardly worth the effort to launch the boats, it was so small. It did have a pleasant view, though. The pines on its shores were draped in the fresh snow and the rising sun coaxed tumbles of it free. Each shelf of snow that fell from a high branch would cause the entire tree to shed its coat in a blizzard of glistening flakes.

  “Oh, look,” Ghemma said, “we have company.”

  We followed her finger to the southeast corner of the pond where a trio of caribou were making their way west. Their run brought down one pine worth of snow after another, and I was smiling throughout the show until I noticed all three were pregnant mares.

  Harmond’s face began to sour.

  “Shouldn’t they be headed south?” I asked.

  A dark tingle crept along my limb and we watched with increasing horror at what we saw but did not want to believe. The three animals were not caribou anymore. They movement was broken and frantic. No hot breath swirled about their snots. They were something like Hessier, and they had found us.

 
When they turned at us and began swimming, panic took over. I could not find my tongue or raise my arms. Most stopped rowing. Two boats beyond their touch broke north. One man jumped overboard. He swam for a moment before sinking from view.

  They were upon us in moments, and with them came the smell of rotten meat and hair. They began to attack the boats, kicking up over the sides. One boat capsized, and the beasts bashed at those who went into the water until they sank from view.

  “Harmond, your club,” I gasped. “Open their skulls.”

  He managed to get hold of it, and yelled to his men to do the same, but none of them had wits to raise them. Another boat went over while the fear swirled my head.

  I couldn’t keep my chin up. The feeling was so much less than the black vise of Geart or any other Hessier, but I was too tired to fight. I tried to stand. I tried to yell out, but there was nothing left of me. The boat began to rock wildly and I tried to clutch Clea. I would not let her drown, but she was not there. I was left to stare in confusion at the bottom of the swaying boat.

  I heard a crack and the chilled grip weakened.

  More meaty whacks followed and I saw a caribou float away from our boat. The other two thrashed their way over the side as they came for us. The hooves of the first stuck the rail near where I stood. I managed to slide back from it, but could do no more. Again, the boat rocked until Harmond’s long club struck down at them. All was still around us.

  When the sickening tingle passed. I spun to find Clea. Neither Ghemma or Burhn had her, the pair locked in a desperate embrace. I was growing frantic when Harmond turned. He’d taken her from my arms and stood staring at her, grizzly club in hand. I’d seen the hungry look before and hurried to take her away from him. He let me do it, but was dim as if drunk.

  Some congratulated him. Others sat, sad and sullen.

  “Get yourselves together,” I said to them. “There will be more. To your oars.”